


Gravity "Phalls"

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Dan, Phil, and their friends spent the summer at Gravity Falls? This is a retelling of the show's events with the major characters replaced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tourist Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler warning for anyone who hasn't watched the show.  
> First off, thank you for checking this out! This is my first fanfiction ever so I'm interested in seeing how this goes. For now, I have no set update schedule.  
> Basically, this follows the show's main events with some events altered (mostly the crush subplots). This is an entirely romance free fic as well. All of the major characters have been replaced by either real YouTubers or my original characters (except for the main antagonist). Minor characters stay the same.  
> There is no guarantee I will write all 40 "episodes" so please keep that in mind.  
> MAJOR thanks to my fantastic beta mychemicalgarlicbread.tumblr.com!  
> You can find me on tumblr at that-one-internet-lover.tumblr.com, haha  
> And with that… ZHOFRPH WR JUDYLWB IDOOV.

Something was always off.

It wasn’t the creepy, paranormal kind of strange, though that would have been greatly appreciated. Some paranormal stuff was exactly what he would’ve needed for this.

No, it was the boring old stuff. His parents were making noise downstairs, or the camera was malfunctioning, or in the case of today, the lighting was just crud.

He shoved his curtains aside and scrunched his nose at the gray blurriness covering the streets.

“Stupid England weather. It better not rain all summer,” he muttered. Turning away from the rain, he dramatically flung himself to his bedroom floor. Now that the lighting was gone his whole “set” was too dark to film in, and there was no way he could invest in some stage lights.

He blew a sigh while staring at the ceiling, causing stray locks of his sandy brown hair to fly askew. Now that he had ran it through his mother’s five-pound straighteners his usual curls had settled into a floppy mop of hair that hung just above his eyes. Of all the things to go wrong, he had completely forgot to consider the weather. This was the third delay already. What else could there be, a break-in?

**THUMP!**

He leapt into the air and let out a shrill scream that was impressive even for his pubescent voice. He was just lucky nobody had heard that.

“Your scream was incredible!”

He whipped around and saw a soggy mass of colorful fabric climbing through his window frame, and somehow it was laughing. He stared as the giggly thing hopped into his room, shutting the window behind him.

“I got you! I actually got you!” The voice of glee was only cut through by audible shivering, and as the figure peeled off his purple galaxy raincoat did he realize who it was.

“What the- _Phil?!_ Is that you?!” he yelped.

The boy in his room wiped rainwater out of his face and raised an eyebrow. “So are you just gonna stand there, or—“

The other boy merely groaned in frustration, hardly able to believe what just happened.

Phil’s teeth chattered and he pulled at the drenched sleeve of his equally colorful shirt. “Dan, I’m kinda cold over here.”

Suddenly Dan took off down the hallway, with his rain-soaked visitor at his heels. Dan meanwhile fired off a rapid stream of questions: “What-are-you-doing-here-why-the-heck-are-you-in-my-house-wait-take-some-slippers-” Dan kicked a pair of slippers towards Phil, continuing to mutter.

“Dan, I’ve got an idea—“

“You’re-just-lucky-my-parents-weren’t-home-and-how-did-you-even-get-up-here-in-the-rain-here-let-me-get-you-a-towel-” And Dan gathered a towel for him from the bath.

“Dan, I’ve got an idea!”

“Did-you-seriously-climb-on-my-roof- “

“Dan—“

“You-can’t-even-eat-my-cereal-without-spilling-it-how-did-you-not-die-(and can you teach me sometime?)-“ They made their way to the kitchen-

“ _Dan..._ ”

“Do-you-want-some-hot-chocolate-but-seriously-that-was-literally-so-dangerous-and—“

“I have an idea, Dan— “

“Well-I’m-just-gonna-heat-some-anyway-and-what-was-so-important-that-you-couldn’t-call-me-or-something—“

“Dan I have an idea I have an idea I have an idea!”

“ _What is it, Phil?!_ ” Now the two of them were standing at the microwave, waiting for Phil’s mug of hot chocolate to finish heating.

Phil grinned. His tousled ginger-brown hair had begun to dry (Ginger? Brown? Neither could decide exactly what Phil's hair color was. Occasionally, Dan commented he should just dye it black so nobody could argue anymore), leaving uneven tufts that stuck out above his ears. “Okay first, I used the mailbox and windowsills to climb, yes I did seriously climb on your roof, I don’t know how I survived, and yes I can teach you. And second, I bet we can start filming now.”

Dan handed the mug to him, which was under heated because Dan already knew Phil wouldn’t think and—

Phil took in a huge mouthful, then right on cue widened his eyes for a moment, letting out a strangled yelp of surprise between his closed lips. He relaxed as the drink didn’t actually burn his tongue and swallowed as if it were the best hot chocolate he’d ever had.

“Five unburnt mouths out of five," Phil reviewed. “Thanks, Dan.”

Dan nodded. “So you said—"

“We can film now,” Phil repeated. “Just look! The darkness, the rumbling thunder, it all adds to the ambiance!”

“Since when have you started using the word ‘ambiance?’” Dan asked instead. Phil had his own vocabulary, words like “ambiance” were usually for Dan.

Phil rolled his eyes. “What, too posh for you? And darkness covers up your video game posters.”

“Hey, I’m _articulate_ , those are _quality_ posters and video games are an _art form_ ,” Dan snapped. “And you came all the way and climbed on the roof in the rain just to tell me that?”

“Probably not my smartest idea,” Phil admitted. Though he was right, Phil always did have a lot of ideas, this project included. “But I came over because we can start right now! And we can start filming at night from now on. Come on, go get the scripts!” And Phil took off.

“Ph-Phil!” Dan shouted, then shook his head and ran after him.

\--

“Welcome to episode five of The Super Amazing Project!” Dan announced in his most sinister voice.

Next to him, Phil sniffed loudly, and Dan made a face. “Eugh!”

“I think I’m getting the sniffles,” Phil said, and Dan put a hand to his nose.

“You should stop opening your mouth.”

“Why?”

“From infecting me with your contagion!” Dan retorted.

At this, Phil exhaled loudly onto Dan’s shoulder, who swatted at him.

“Sorry,” Phil said automatically, then laughed when Dan furiously began blowing puffs of air in his face. Phil coughed and Dan pointed, crowing, “Ah! It worked!”

Phil reached up and stopped recording, the two of them having already gotten off script fifteen seconds in. Behind him, Dan smugly said, “Now how do you reckon you got so cold and sniffly, huh Phil?” To his surprise, Phil didn’t retort.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, his smile gone.

“I think something’s wrong with the camera,” Phil said in response. Dan groaned. Of all the things to keep going wrong. Phil lifted it off the tripod, then squinted past Dan’s open bedroom door. “Wait, didn’t you leave the hall lights on?”

Phil reset the camera and poked his head into the hallway, his shoulders slumping.

“The power’s out!” he cried, and a rumble of thunder shook the house to further confirm. Dan slapped his forehead.

“Why don’t we just get an F on this summer assignment?” Dan groaned. That’s all The Super Amazing Project was, just a dumb school assignment for their film class. A stupid project, with a glitchy camera and a bedroom as their set. He felt himself sink to the carpet.

Phil turned around just in time. Dan was lying down face first, his mind somewhere else.

“Hey, hey, no need for a crisis, Dan,” Phil quipped, even though Phil had no idea why Dan had gotten upset all of a sudden. That was Phil too, who always had something positive to say. At this, Dan’s eyes refocused on something.

“Wait,” Dan said. His position had given him a view under his bed, and he reached underneath and pulled out a brochure, which was somehow soaking wet.

“Hey! You found my brochure!” Phil exclaimed. “It must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I… ‘came in’.”

“Yeah,” Dan snorted, readjusting his hair. “Where is this?” The pamphlet showcased a densely wooded area surrounding a little log cabin.

Phil took the brochure. “Gravity Falls. It’s in Oregon.”

“America? Why are you going there?” The only things Dan knew about America were its different pancakes, spelling certain words without the u, and their funny accents.

“My parents are sending me there next week to stay with my great aunt,” Phil replied.

“Next week!” Dan cried. “We only have one episode done! You mean I have to film the other nine myself?!”

Phil squinted in response, his brow furrowed. Frowning, he flipped through the brochure, then gasped as he spotted a damp sticky note, barely clinging to the paper.

“Not quite.” Phil handed the note to Dan.

Dan held the note up to his face. In scribbly letters, distinctly an adult’s handwriting, was, “Phil, Mr. and Mrs. Howell have said okay. Don’t forget!”

“My parents said okay for what?” Dan asked. “I didn’t hear about this.”

Phil waved him off. “They were probably gonna tell you today. Now look!”

Dan looked underneath the cursive. The script changed to Phil’s handwriting.

In big messy capital letters was, “REMINDER: TELL DAN TO PACK FOR GRAVITY FALLS”.

\--

The first thing Dan learned about Gravity Falls was the overwhelming presence of nature. The wifi was awful and the musky smell of pine needles was everywhere.

The second thing was the overwhelming presence of their caretaker, Phil’s great aunt, Graunty Stella. She owned the Mystery Shack, a rickety museum of sorts. Dan was weirded out as soon as the bus pulled up to the building. Stella waved casually at them with a smile, which would have looked normal if not for her bizarre getup. Despite the heat, she was dressed in a full body, dapper black suit, affixed with a bowtie and a maroon fez, and an eyepatch over her glasses lens. A moment later, she nudged the patch over to the other eye, and Dan saw she the now uncovered iris was just as functional as the other one. The action was quick and arbitrary, and Dan assumed it was something she did often. They stepped off the bus, Dan’s suitcase clattering on the steps behind him.

Dan nearly coughed up a lung at Stella’s greeting. For such a small lady she clapped him heartily on the back, letting out a cackling laugh.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, boys! You’re gonna learn the value of hard work!” She exclaimed in a Northern accent even thicker than Phil’s, and Dan swore he felt a wave of nausea. So much for a fun summer.

Both of them were given a place up in the attic of the Mystery Shack. Phil taped up his last Ponder poster, next to Howl’s Unmoving Castle, Buffy the Vampire Killer, Slam Bandicoot and Cosmo Canyon from First Reality VII.

“There, I think that completes the look. Very Phil.” Phil commented, then grimaced as he picked out a splinter. Dan heard a bleat and realized he had nearly thrown his backpack onto an animal.

“And there’s a goat on my bed,” Dan muttered. It was a runty, smelly thing with patchy brown fur, perched on his mattress. The goat bleated at him and Phil walked over.  


“Hey friend,” Phil smiled, his natural kindness even extending to smelly goats. Dan only scowled. The animal studied Phil with wide eyes, then began chewing the sleeve of his shirt. It was red plaid with green stripes, a suitable pop of color next to Dan’s all black outfit.

Phil only laughed. “Oh, yes you can keep chewing on my shirt.”

Dan’s first day on the job, meanwhile, involved cleaning the jar of eyeballs and redirecting bumbling tourists. It wasn’t till their first night, when Phil whispered a “Good night, Dan” and Dan was left to study the window did he catch it. It wasn’t a spark of a magic or shock of fright; it could only be a glimmer of weird. As weird as his whole day.

Illuminated in the moonlight, the weathervane outside was shaped like a question mark. Instead of the four directions, it spelled out “W-H-A-T”.

“What” was right. As the days went on, Dan quickly realized that things like that were their new summer routine. In the early mornings when Phil ate a stack of waffles for breakfast, Dan watched as the birds and squirrels outside seemed to freeze, as if listening to something in the woods. In the early evenings after Dan endured another day at the shack, Phil remarked how the lake’s depths seemed to house eerie shadows. And all day, all night, Dan just couldn’t shake that feeling of weird.

And then there was Stella. Both Dan and Phil’s parents had assured her that Dan was a good kid, to be treated “like family.” Unfortunately, “family” to Stella was a little too familiar. For example, Dan was certain no host he had before had repeatedly scared Dan with face masks, or made him clean the bathroom without even an allowance, or respond to Dan’s sarcasm with, “The only dry humor under this roof is from me, lad.”

So yes, the nature, Stella, and everything about Gravity Falls just wasn’t normal.

Phil had no problem with all of this, of course.

“Yay! Grass!” he sang on their fourth day at Gravity Falls, tumbling down a hill. Dan, meanwhile, had given up trying to shoo away the woodpecker on his head, who was incessantly tapping his forehead as if willing him not to procrastinate on his summer reading. It almost reminded him of Phil.

As if knowing Dan was thinking of him, Phil rolled to a stop by Dan. He sat up, brushed the grass out of his hair, and closed Dan’s book for him. Dan glanced up, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve got an idea. Meet me inside.” Phil ran off.

The gift shop was a spacious room and allowed for private conversations. Dan and Phil had nodded a hello to Cat, who was on her way out for her lunch break. She swept her long brown hair over one shoulder before waving at them with a grin. “Later guys!”

Louise, another employee, had walked past as well with an affectionate scruff to Phil’s hair and chin pluck to Dan. “See you soon, boys.”

Once there were no adults in sight, Phil stepped onto the counter still with his shoes on and perched himself on the big globe.

“ _Rebellion_ ,” he whispered as seriously as he could while spinning himself on top of the globe, right on Antarctica, and Dan snorted with amusement. “So what was this new idea of yours?”

Phil steadied himself by placing a hand on Russia. “I’m making a horror movie!”

“A what?”

“You know, the scary genre!”

“I know what they _are_ , but why?”

Phil spun again before answering. “I mean, I got the equipment and everything. The Super Amazing Project’s been fun but I kinda want to do my own thing on the side, you know? And this place is so weird and cool, it’s the perfect setting!”

The Super Amazing Project had been fun. Since arriving Dan had collected enough notes for two Gravity Falls exclusive episodes. If this kept up, they’d probably be done with their ten-episode assignment by next week.

Phil held up a VHS tape. “Back home my friends and I made one. Loads of ketchup and outtakes, it was a lot of fun—well, the outtakes were funny but it got kinda annoying to keep reshooting… Oh, and we deafened a pigeon with a fake gunshot, but that was cool.”

Dan blinked. “And you want to make another one of those disasters?”

Phil anchored himself by placing his feet on North America and Europe. Above his shoes, Dan could see Phil’s socks, which were mismatched as always. One was fuchsia and had shooting stars, and another was white with blue pine trees.

“No, I want to make the ultimate horror movie this time, and I’ll need a cast and stuff.” Phil continued.

Dan brightened. “Like a protagonist?”

Phil spun himself around again and laughed while answering, as if it was obvious. “That’ll be me Dan, I’d be the hero.” He flexed his skinny arms. “The underdog, you know?”

The globe squeaked as Phil continued spinning, spinning, spinning. It didn’t seem so funny anymore. In fact, it was downright annoying.

“Oh,” Dan finally said. “Any-anyone else?”

Phil shrugged. “I’m trying to find a sidekick. Like a best friend type role.” He paused to look at Dan. “I’m gonna go into town later to sort of recruit people.” He glanced down at the globe and laughed. “I bet I’m drowning Antarctica by now.”

The _nerve_ of him! “Okay. I was just… I just thought that you’d… I…” Dan voice trailed off. Phil looked up at Dan’s tone, but neither spoke.

Before either of them could say anything else, Stella suddenly walked by. “You only got an hour for lunch, hurry up!” She gave Dan’s shoulder a light tap to indicate she was talking to them before stepping out the front door.

Dan stumbled, steadying himself on the globe. Unfortunately, that stopped its rotation and Phil toppled off with a high-pitched “Ahh!”

Dan didn’t apologize, didn’t even check if Phil was alright, and instead muttered something about lunch and ran out of the room.

\--

Stella found Dan after lunch.

“You!” Stella cried, practically throwing a load of signs on Dan. “Go hang up these signs.”

“Aw, what?” Dan complained. 

Might as well fess up. “Mrs. Lester, whenever I'm in those woods, I- I feel like I'm being watched.”

Stella pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh, this again.”

“I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today my mosquito bite literally spelled out ‘BEWARE.’” He held up his forearm.

Stella looked closer. “That says ‘BEWARB,” she stated matter-of-factly, and Dan blinked at the second “B” that had formed by his elbow. He grimaced and scratched at his shoulder.

Stella shook her head. “Look lad, the whole ‘monsters in the forest’ thing is just local legend, drummed up by people like me to sell merch to guys like that.”

She nodded toward a pale, sweaty tourist who was nasally laughing at a bobblehead.

“Oh,” Dan said weakly, vaguely recalling the last tourist he’d helped the day before: “Erm, that’s $4.99? _Whatever that means._ Hm? O-oh, that’s… $6.75… Oh, th-that’s too expensive for you?…No, how should I know? I’m British! We use pounds n’ stuff! …Because of my accent? …No, I don’t _worship_ the queen, and democracy’s a _fine_ system and— That doesn’t even have a price tag you idiot!” He more clearly remembered Stella’s glare of rage as the tourist waddled over to her and drawled, “That British kid just harassed me,” as he dropped his unbought items on the counter and left. Dan, meanwhile, was reduced to a stuttering mess of “I’m sorry’s” and swept the counters for the rest of the day with a slightly shell-shocked expression.

Not even a week in town, and he was already vaguely traumatized by angry tourists and Phil was off in who-knows-where. This was going to be the best summer ever.

“So just hang these up, alright?” Stella said, and Dan sighed, taking a hammer and nails.

\--

The sky was slightly gray today, almost like it was going to rain. Dan hadn’t seen any rain since arriving. A thunderstorm reminded him of home, and he nearly laughed out loud at how England’s rainy summers were the thing that made him homesick. Instead he swallowed his mirth and hammered a sign that said, “To the Mystery Shack”, the dull THUNK THUNK echoing in the forest. It wasn’t like anyone was going to believe him, but Dan couldn’t shake the thought of the forest being way too quiet today.

 _THUNK THUNK_. “Behold” was nailed in.

 _THUNK THUNK_. “This way” was nailed in.

Dan picked up “Amazing!” and a nail. Holding the nail up to the trunk, he hammered it once.

 _CLANG_.

“Hm?” Dan pressed an ear to the wood and tapped more lightly this time. _CLANG CLANG_

He rubbed his nose on the dust that was suddenly everywhere, and carefully ran his palm over the trunk, watching as more dust rose up. The trunk was ice cold too, and Dan felt with his fingertips a slight groove. With a creak and mess of cobwebs, an entire panel of the trunk gave way and Dan found himself staring at a hollow compartment with an old radio, covered in moss and dirt.

Despite the silence in the woods, Dan still looked behind him before fiddling with the switches. There was a whir behind him and another panel opened up, this time on the ground itself, an entire square of grass giving way.

“What the—” Dan gasped, scampering to the hole. Inside, in a thick layer of a dust, was a simple leather bound book. Dan poked his head in, careful not to sneeze on it, and blew away the debris. Once unearthed, he had a better look at it. The book was a maroon hardcover with frayed edges. A number three was drawn on a sheet of gold foil the shape of a hand, which curiously enough had six fingers. Dan’s limbs wobbled, and he knew it wasn’t from the book’s weight.

Luckily, the switch was also able to close the panels, and once he’d done so, after looking around again, he set the book on the grass and opened the front cover with two fingers.

The pages were revealed to be frayed, browning and brittle. Dan could barely make out a “Property of…” in ink, and whatever the name was had been ripped off. He squinted in bemusement at a glass monocle jammed between the page that said “Volume 3”, then flipped to the first page, which had pages of thin lined cursive. So it was a journal? Dan skimmed the first entry, dated June 11th:

“It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.”

The page after was no less confusing. Dan spotted “FLOATING EYEBALLS” and “GIANT VAMPIRE BATS!” amid intricate sketches, newspaper clippings and hasty scribbling in black ink.

The page after: “GNOMES.”

And after that: “CURSED DOORS.”

And one of the last entries:

"Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before He finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust."

Dan shut the cover. “No one you can trust...” He desperately wanted to laugh it off, return to the Mystery Shack and forget this ever happened. But the radio and panel had been no joke. And there was something about this journal that looked sincere. Maybe it was its intricacy, the detailed sketches. Or that everything about it seemed so anxious. The penmanship, while neat, was undeniably scraggly through the whole thing, as if it belonged to a shaking hand. Dan flipped through the pages, barely aware of his own breathing. The sentences grew shorter, more frantic. On the last page with writing, the entry read “If it were to be unlea-“, the a tapered off as the black pen ran out of ink. There was a few dozen blank pages after that. Then he reached the last page:

“DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS!”

Dan’s breath caught in his throat. The entry ended there.

The words were written in red.

Dan bit his lip and swung his backpack around, fumbling with the zipper. What did any of this mean? Maybe he could go back and ask Stella, or—

“RAWR!”

“AHH!” Dan, who had been kneeling, fell face first onto his backpack, then got to his feet and saw Phil, poised with his hands shaped like claws. His face broke into a huge grin. “I got you again! Ha! In your face, Danny boy! Whatcha reading, some nerd thing?”

Dan held the Journal tight. “Uh, uh, it’s nothing!”

Phil widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Uh, uh, it’s nothing!” he cried, mimicking Dan’s panic, and chuckled. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Dan looked past him instead. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Phil turned around and squinted. 

Dan whipped the book out and bonked Phil on the head.

“Have a look!” Dan laughed.

“Dan!” Phil groaned. “You’re the worst person in the world!” He rubbed his head.

Dan grinned, the knots in his stomach gone. “But if you really wanna see it, I’ll show you back at the shack.”

\--

Once in the lounge, Phil swung himself up on the armchair’s arm, while Dan set his backpack down on the floor. Pulling out the Journal, he exclaimed, “It's amazing! Mrs. Lester said I was being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has this secret dark side. And get this! After a certain point, the pages just... stop. Like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared.”

Phil’s mouth formed a perfect O. “That’s amazing!” He cried, giving Dan a shove. “We could be like the next monster hunters! Just running around with this book and weapons—” He imitated swinging a sword and fell back on the chair. 

Dan looked at the pages and then to Phil. “You... you believe me?”

Phil swung his legs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Dan smiled a little. “Thanks, Phil.”

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Dan looked past Phil’s shoulder, his smile fading. “Who’s that?”

Phil slid off the armchair. “I’ve got an appointment! Phil Co. Enterprises has reviewed the auditions and got a result!”

Dan hesitated before answering. “You mean to tell me in the half-hour I’ve been gone you’ve already found a lead actor?” He couldn’t hide his hesitation, swallowing the heat rising in his chest.

“What can I say?” Phil asked with a grin that made his tongue poke out of the corner of his mouth. “I guess I’m just... irresistible!” He ran off to answer the door.

Dan took Phil’s place, this time on the chair itself. He flipped through the pages. The Journal wouldn’t leave _him_ out of any stupid horror movies.

“Whatcha reading there, lad?” Stella entered the lounge, having heard the doorbell.

Dan slid the book between his back and the chair. He grabbed a magazine next to him. “Oh! Uh, just catching up on… ‘Gold Chains for Old Men Magazine’?”

Before any awkwardness could ensue Phil scrambled back into the room. Dan had to thank him sometime for his constant perfect timing. “Hey family! Dan included,” Phil said, pointing at Dan. “Say hello to my co-star!”

In lumbered a pale teenager, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans despite the heat. Ironically overdressed, like Dan. Realizing his thought, he frowned and found himself greeting the guy with an angry scowl. _Great first impression, Dan,_ he thought bitterly.

“We met at the cemetery. He’s so cool!” Phil went on.

 _What the heck were you doing at the cemetery?_ Dan wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut, his scowl deepening. “What’s your name?” He asked instead to the guy.

Immediately he growled. “Uh, normal! Man!”

“He means Norman,” Phil clarified.

Dan looked closer at a red spot on Norman’s face. “Are you bleeding, Norman?” He remembered the last page of the Journal and shivered.

“It’s jam.” Norman insisted, and wiped the smear off.

“Anyway, we’re gonna go shoot the first scene now in the backyard! Later!” Phil ran out, while Norman staggered out of the room. Dan stared after them. Phil hadn’t even looked back. His hands tightening around the Journal, Dan stomped as loudly as he could to the attic. The room next to their bedroom nook was empty and had a comfy window seat. It cast wide squares of sunlight as Dan sat down and flipped through the Journal.

Horror movies were overrated. So what if Norman was supposed to be the best friend character? Knowing Phil, he would probably make him the annoying sidekick. Dan didn’t want to be a sidekick. He didn’t even care. Phil could do anything for all he cared—

Wait. He looked closer at the page he’d just flipped to.

“Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes these creatures are often mistaken for... teenagers?!” He read aloud. “Beware Gravity Falls's nefarious— “

Dan fell out of his chair. “ZOMBIE!”

He scrambled to his feet, pressing his face against the window. Down in the backyard, Phil turned off his camera.

“Great first take, Norman!” He cried. “You’re a natural actor!”

Despite his panic, Dan still glared at Phil, who gave Norman a high-five.

“You alright there?”

Dan turned around. Louise entered the attic with a slight smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to yourself in this empty room.”

“It happens a lot more than you think,” Dan muttered. “This is gonna sound really weird, but I’ll be upfront: I think Norman’s a zombie.”

Louise merely nodded. “How many brains has he eaten?”

Dan looked down. “Zero.”

“That’s alright, I believe you. I’m always noticing weird things since I got here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t think Stella’s told you this but I came with her. Stella works summers at the Mystery Shack and I’m close with the family. I’ve met Phil a few times at some holiday gatherings over the years.” She shook her head at the window. “The kid’s a mess sometimes.”

Dan almost interrupted with a _Yeah, we bond over that type of stuff_ , but Louise instead knelt to Dan’s level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I do know Phil’s a good kid. If something’s bothering you, you should just be upfront with him, like you were with me just now.”

Dan put a hand to his face. “Aw man, is it that obvious I’m jealous?” 

Louise patted his shoulder. “Well, whatever you think, I’m sure Phil will understand.”  

Dan made his way toward the stairs. “But first I gotta make sure Norman is or isn’t a zombie. Thanks, Louise.”

\--

Although he knew he shouldn’t have, Dan ran straight out, armed with his own camera. He not-so-gracefully dived into a bush and hit record. His clips involved extensive takes of Phil waving the leaf blower around like a chainsaw, and squirting excess packets of ketchup- and jam, Dan noted. After an hour of gathering evidence, Dan decided he’d seen enough.

He found Phil in their bedroom, worriedly adjusting his hair. Dan tucked the Journal under his arm.

“Phil, I think we need to talk about Norman.”

Phil turned around. “Dan! We shot three scenes today, they all look great, I bet you’ll love it!”

Dan shook his head. “No, Phil, listen! I’m trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He held up the Journal, showing the cover to Phil.

“You think he’s a monster? What if Norman’s a vampire?” Phil laughed. “That’d be a twist! I could be all like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and be like, _whoosh, whoosh, ahhh!_ ” He waved an invisible dagger. 

Dan shook his head. “Guess again, Phil. Sha-BAM!” He held the book open.

“Agh! Wait, gnomes?”

“Oh, whoops.” Dan flipped to the book’s middle. “Sh-bam!”

Phil’s eyes widened. “ _Zombies?_ Dan, I was joking with the whole vampire thing. _That’s_ not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Dan protested. He shook the Journal by the spine. “It all adds up: the bleeding, the limp. He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Neither do I,” Phil deadpanned, and for once Dan couldn’t think of a response. It was then he saw Phil’s eyes narrow. “How’d you figure that out anyway?” He asked, his voice deathly quiet. 

Dan grimaced. “I had my camera, and I- I-“

“You were _following_ me?” His eyes flashed as he leaned forward, his shoulders stiffening.

“No, I was just-“

“Whatever scheme you’re cooking up, I’m not making you the star.”

Dan backed up a step. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

Phil waved his hands mockingly: “ _’Wh-what are you talking about?’_ What do you _think?_ You think I saw right past your petty envy?”

Dan stammered out a non-answer. Petty? Phil cast a disgusted glance at the Journal.

“I believed this, Dan!” Phil cried, jabbing a finger at the maroon cover. “But Norman, a zombie? Why else would you say that?!”

“No, I'm not, m’serious—”

“I bet it’s more than envy, isn’t it? You’re _jealous_.”

For a moment, Dan couldn’t speak because Phil was right, he was right and Dan’s jaw refused to unclench and dribble out more lies. Then the moment passed and the anger came flooding back. All at once Dan fired back, “Why’d you have to get another guy? You know I’ve been acting since I was five, I was Santa! And Benvolio! Come on Phil, I’ve got the stuff!”

Phil stepped forward and gave Dan’s shoulders a shove and Dan skittered back, stunned. “Listen Dan, I’m gonna go shoot another scene with my _amazing_ co-star, who _doesn’t_ have envy, at five o’clock,” Phil shoved Dan again, who backpedaled towards the door, “And it’s going to be great, and _he’s_ going to be great, so do me a favor and _get out!_ ”

With a final push, Dan stumbled out the bedroom and Phil immediately slammed the door.

Dan got to his feet, the slam ringing in his ears. Picking up his camera, he muttered, “Well, stalking’s what I do best.”

He needed the golf cart.

\--

“Darn, out of battery. Well Norman, I think we can call it a day, yeah? Thanks for agreeing to do this.” Phil shut off the camera.

He turned around and saw Norman looking slightly uncomfortable.” Uh, Phil, now that we’ve gotten to know each other, there’s...” He sighed. “...there’s something I should tell you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“All right, just... just don’t freak out, okay? Just...just keep an open mind, be cool!”

“Okay…”

Norman reached towards his hoodie. Unzipping it, he suddenly whipped it off, and Phil spotted four more pairs of eyes, beards, and tiny limbs. Completely uncovered, Norman was revealed to be five little garden gnomes. The top one brushed the hair out of his eye and spoke, the deep guttural tone of Norman’s voice gone.

“Is this weird? Is this too weird? Do you need to sit down?” His voice was higher and reedy. The gnomes looked and sounded like something vaguely out of a children’s film.

Phil complied, seating himself on a log. “Well, if Dan was here he’d probably need to puke,” he stammered, attempting a weak chuckle. He stared at the gnomes.

The gnome put his hands out, aware of Phil’s shock. “R-right, I’ll explain.” He clasped his hands together. “So! We’re gnomes. First off. Get that one outta the way.”

“Uh…” Phil said in response.

“I’m Jeff,” said Jeff, gesturing to himself. “And here we have Carson, Steve, Jason and... I’m sorry, I always forget your name.”

“Shmebulock.” The last gnome drawled, slightly cross-eyed.

“Shmebulock! Yes!” Jeff cried, snapping his fingers. “Anyways, long story short, us gnomes have been lookin' for a new queen! Right, guys?”

“Queen! Queen!” The gnomes squawked.

Queens? Gnomes? Shmebulock? How much weirder could this town get?

“And what does that have to do with me?” Phil asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Listen, a guy like you? We’ve seen your movie scripts, and you’re lookin’ for a girl too, aren’t ya? Right around your age?”

“Um, well not in a, uh, ‘queen’ way. Just as a character. But, uh, I don’t know any girls my age here.”

Jeff nodded. “We understand. We appreciate your help, Phil. We’ll never forget you.”

Phil managed a crooked smile as Jeff nodded resolutely.

“Because we’re gonna kidnap you.”

“Huh?”

Jeff’s features warped into a feral, jagged tooth grin. With a snarl, he leapt right at Phil.

The forest rang with a scream, then fell silent again.

\--

Dan leaned forward in his seat, pushing harder on the gas pedal. For his first time driving he was surprised at how adrenaline could make him an instant expert. Cat had regarded his panic with wide eyes, handing over the keys with a quick, “Try not to hit any pedestrians!” Louise had handed him a shovel and baseball bat: “Better safe than sorry!” Dan jerked the wheel, sharply turning a curve. The cart began to rattle as the road lapsed into forest grass. 

“HELP!”

Dan straightened, hearing Phil’s unmistakable Northern twang in that scream of terror. That had to be him.

“Phil! Animal impressions!” Dan yelled back.

Without a moment of hesitation, the forest erupted in a cacophony of noises. Screeches, roars, barks, chirps, and meows echoed through the trees, all sounding like Phil. 

“Secret code,” Dan muttered to himself. “Gotta hand that to you, Phil.” Dan drove in the source of the noise until he’d reached a clearing.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody! Get his arm there, Steve!” Dan heard a male voice yell. Steve? What was even going on?

“Let go of me!” He heard Phil shout. 

Reality seemed to become even less believable the closer he got. At first Dan thought Phil was screaming at a bunch of mushrooms and briefly worried they had some strange effect when eaten. Then he heard voices, and thought they were some kind of toy. But then there was a shout and the sound of Phil’s fist meeting flesh and and a- a _thing_ flew away from him. Dan clambered out of the golf cart, armed with his shovel, in time to see the thing stand upright and vomit rainbows, all the colors glittering on the grass. He stared, bug-eyed.

“What the _heck_ is going on here?!” Dan shouted. 

Quite literally above the fray, Phil kicked another creature off of his leg as they bit and scratched, only coming up to his knees. A creature suddenly ran up and hissed at Dan. He shrank back with a gasp. 

“Dan! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!” Phil yelled.

Dan reached for the book, flipping to the page. “Gnomes? Huh, I was _way_ off.” He skimmed the page. “‘Gnomes: little men of the Gravity Falls Forest. Weaknesses: unknown’?" He looked up and somehow the little men had Phil tied to the ground.

“Aw, come on!” Phil shouted, sounding more annoyed than scared.

Dan stomped up to one of the gnomes. “Hey! Let go of him!”

The gnome chuckled awkwardly. “Oh! Ha ha, hey, there! Um, you know, this is all really just a big misunderstanding. You see, he’s not in any danger. In fact, it appears we’ve found our target! You! Thanks for your help, Phil!”

“YOU’RE ALL BUTT-FACES!” Phil screamed.

Dan pointed the shovel as menacingly as he could. “Okay, what do you want from me?”

“Yeah, why him? You guys needed a queen—!” Phil added, then let out strangled screams of anger as a gnome covered his mouth.

“Yeah, and now we have one!” Jeff nodded as if it made perfect sense.

“A Qu—?! I’M A BOY!” Dan screamed, his face red. “I already know I look like an eight-year-old girl, thanks!”

Without missing a beat, Jeff asked, “Surely then you know of girls your age?”

“I wish,” Dan muttered, then coughed awkwardly. “U-uh, I mean,” he fumbled, pointing the shovel. “Give him back right now, or else!”

Jeff’s face darkened. “You think you can stop us, kid? You have no idea what we're capable of.”

Dan flipped his shovel over and frowned with bemusement while Jeff continued. “The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the— “

Dan scooped Jeff onto the shovel and tossed him a few inches. “Like shoveling snow,” he mused with a grin, raising his eyebrow. He dashed forward and cut Phil’s ropes, who sprang up and kicked the gnomes like he’d been confined for years, not minutes. They both ran to the golf cart.

“Seatbelt,” Dan said quickly, and he floored it. The golf cart shot out of the clearing, but Jeff was still within earshot: “You've messed with the wrong creatures! Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Phil clutched the sides of the cart. “Hurry, before they come after us!” He cried as they reached the outer part of the forest.

Dan chuckled. “I wouldn't worry about it. See their little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

The ground shook, rattling the cart. Both kids turned around as the forest reverberated with echoing thuds.

Towering into the sky was a giant gnome, but as Dan and Phil looked closer they realized what the gnomes had done. Its flesh was a light pink, but that was from the gnomes’ skin and hats all blended together. They had stacked themselves to form one giant beast, which roared so loudly the tops of the pine trees quivered.

“Dang,” Phil breathed.

Atop the monstrosity, Dan could still hear Jeff shout, “All right, teamwork, guys! Like we practiced.” Dan really didn’t want to see what “teamwork” was.

Neither did Phil. “Move!” He yelled in Dan’s ear, and they rumbled down the path. Behind him, the gnome’s arm disassembled into hundreds of tiny gnomes, who ran back to reform after missing their target.

By this point both of them were simply screaming in terror, and Dan realized they were about to hit the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign. If it meant that or succumbing to the gnomes, maybe Dan could—

And oh look, the sign fell to pieces around them. Physics just didn’t apply. They hurtled, screaming, off the cliff to the ground, the engine still refusing to give out.

For a near-death experience, Dan had never imagined gnomes. There it was again, the strangeness.

“For the record, this is the weirdest day of my life!” Dan screamed.

“Mine too!” Phil yelled. He turned around in his seat. “It’s getting closer!” He shouted, and this time Dan heard several thumps and tears.

 _Eyes on the road, eyes on the road_ , he thought desperately, despite there being little gnomes now biting the roof off. Phil jabbed his elbow into a gnome’s face, then grabbed the gnome Shmebulock off the dash by his neck. Before Dan could react, Phil was slamming the gnome’s face into the steering wheel, wearing a look of pure annoyance.

“Stupid thing,” he said while rhythmically hitting him, then tossed the guy aside.

Dan heard a feral screech and suddenly a gnome leapt onto his face. The road lapsed into darkness as he scratched wildly. Dan whipped his head back and forth, unable to scream but refusing to let go of the wheel.

“I’ll save you, Dan!” It was Phil again, and with several punches, the gnome flew off with a scrap of Dan’s shirt. Luckily it was an old one he was meaning to get rid of anyway.  
Dan winced at the fresh bruises forming on his cheeks. Before he had a chance to thank Phil, he was screaming again.

“Look out!” And the beast had thrown an entire tree. It cast its shadow over the cart and crashed lengthwise across the entire road.  
Dan jerked the steering wheel, feet off the gas. The cart careened wildly, with both of them screaming, then tipped over. They barely skimmed under the trunk at a diagonal angle before toppling sideways.

Without time to assess any injuries, the gnome beast roared behind them. Phil half pushed, half helped Dan out of the cart. They were back at the shack’s backyard. Dan quickly gathered his supplies right as the gnome lumbered behind them.

Dan chucked the shovel. “Stay back, mate!” The shovel was folded in half, and both of them shrieked, grabbing each other.

Dan wrapped his arm tighter around Phil’s outstretched ones. “Please tell me Mrs. Lester’s nearby.”

Phil glanced about wildly. “Not even close,” he wheezed.

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled from the top.  

“Th-The Journal doesn’t say anything. There’s gotta be a way out of this,” Dan whispered. Glancing up at the gnome beast again, he draped his arm across Phil’s chest, backing up until they hit the wall of the shack.

“Leave us alone!” Dan shouted. “Can’t you see we don’t know anything?”

To his surprise, Jeff shouted back, “What was that?”

“Leave us alone!”

_“What?”_

Dan felt ready to explode. _Stupid mumbly voice, why don’t you work you useless piece of—_

“Wait a sec.” Phil put a hand on his shoulder. He gestured for Jeff to come down.

“Help me down there, Jason!” Jeff called. “Thanks! All right, left foot, there we go.”

“Walk with me towards the bush,” Phil hissed, and they slowly inched their way to the shrubs lining the wall of the shack. Phil nudged Dan aside before whispering, “Find it,” and walked forward, his arms outstretched. He laughed loudly. “Ha ha, silly me! I just remembered someone!”

“You did?” Jeff leaned forward. “Who?”

Dan groped blindly in the bush, wincing as his hand brushed branches and thorns. Then he felt the sharp coldness of metal. As quietly as he could, he pulled it closer to him. Phil was slowly backing back up to the bush.

“She’s a bit cold,” Phil began, drawing his hands behind his back, palms up. “But her kisses are so powerful she’ll never let you go!” Right as Dan pulled the metal thing—the leaf blower— out of the bush, Phil snatched it from his hands and turned it on, aiming it right at Jeff.

“Ah! Hey, hey, wait a minute!” Jeff cried. He desperately tried to run but the leaf blower’s suction was too much. “Whoa, whoa! Wh-what's goin' on?!” His feet left the ground and half his body lodged in the pipe.

Dan stared. What _was_ going on?

“That's for lying to me!” Phil shouted. He adjusted the switch, increasing the suction power.

“Ow! My face!” Jeff wailed, then disappeared into the machine.

“That’s for trying to kill us!” Phil added. He grinned and heaved it up, pointing it at the giant gnome.

“And this is for messing with my best friend!” He turned back to Dan. “Wanna do the honors?”

Dan put his hand on the lever next to Phil's. “On three!” He shouted.

“One, two, three!” They cried in unison, and pushed the lever from suction to blowing. Jeff burst out of the leaf blower with a scream and like a cannonball, flew into the gnome. With a magnificent thud, the beast dissembled, sending hundreds of gnomes flying across the yard. Above the clamor they heard Jeff yell, “I'll get you back for this...!”

Phil leapt forward, brandishing the leaf blower. Leaves and twigs blew around them and snagged in their hair.

“Anyone else want some?” Dan demanded. With several yelps and whimpers, the gnomes ran off on their stubby legs.  

For several seconds, Dan and Phil stared after them, barely able to process what had just happened.

“Wow,” Phil finally sighed. “Victory dance?” He tentatively waved his arms.

Dan pointed back at the shack. “Let’s head back.” He said.

“Hey, Dan?” Phil twined his fingers and looked down. “I, um...I'm sorry for ignoring your advice. You really were just looking out for me.”

Dan paused. When Phil slammed the door in his face, he was so certain of some sort of victory in exposing Norman, but there was really nothing to win.

“Oh, don't be like that,” He finally said, “You saved us back there. And really, you were right. I let my jealousy get the better of me. So, I’m sorry too. It’s just, it really stunk, you know?”

Phil sighed quietly. “That’s okay, Dan. I guess I’m just sad all my scenes have to be reshot now. And it wasn’t even a vampire, I couldn’t even be like Buffy.”

Dan managed a reassuring smile. “Well who knows? Maybe the next guy you find will be a vampire!”

There was a pause and Phil pursed his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asked.

Phil looked at Dan to the yard and back again. “I think,” he said slowly. “I just found my new co-star. And you definitely won’t be a vampire, right?”

“Aw Phil, you don’t have to—“ 

“No, really,” Phil pressed. “I wanted this to be my own kind of project, but Norman was actually the worst actor ever. He was worse than a robot. He was worse than a… a _broken_ robot, Dan. It was like directing a toaster, except he was a bunch of gnomes, so…”

Suddenly Dan burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you let a bunch of gnomes be in your movie!”

He was laughing so hard that he doubled over and clutched his stomach. He had an uproarious, wheezing laugh that made anyone around him laugh too. 

Phil was laughing almost as hard as Dan when Phil managed to wheeze, “And they almost killed us and they ruined your shirt!” He gestured to the huge hole in Dan’s back.

Dan laughed again. “Can you imagine if you said the girl was ‘your mum’? Then they really would’ve killed us!”

Phil snorted into his hand. “Oh gosh, no! Do gnomes even have mums?”

Dan looked over at his friend, doubled over, hand over his mouth, stifling giggling aftershocks with leaves in his hair, and he knew they were okay again. 

“Maybe the Journal will tell us. Those guys were savages!” He said. 

Phil elbowed him in the ribs. “And who got jealous of them?”

“Alright, alright,” Dan chuckled, pushing him aside, as they went in the gift shop.

Stella was counting the day’s profits at the counter. “Goodness, what happened to you two?! Dinner’s on the table, do you want some?”

“No thanks, Graunty Stella,” Phil sighed. They began to retreat to the lounge.

Stella called after them. “Uh, hey! Wouldn't you know it? I accidentally overstocked some inventory, so... how's about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house.”

Dan folded his arms. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch is do it before I change my mind, now take something.” Stella went back to counting her dollars. Dan made a mental note to learn how to convert them. No more tourists claiming the British kid harassed them.

Dan wandered among the clothes racks. He grabbed a small size of a black t-shirt, just his color. On it was a simple white eclipse. He changed into it, discarding his old ripped shirt. The fabric comfortably draped from his shoulders, and he glanced in the mirror.

“Hmm. That oughta do the trick!” He said to his reflection.

Phil meanwhile, rummaged through the clearance items. “And I’ll have a…”

He twirled in a show-like fashion, brandishing his item. “Grappling hook!”

Stella and Dan exchanged a look of confusion. “Really?” she asked.

Phil shot the hook, which wrapped around a ceiling beam. He leapt up, whooping.

“Fair enough!” Stella commented.

Dan shook his head. This guy.

\--

After an hour, the adrenaline faded and Dan and Phil became hungry enough to demand dinner leftovers. The rest of their evening passed with video games, an art form as Dan insisted, and odd American television. Now at 11 PM, Phil bounced on his bed while Dan shifted himself under his black and gray duvet. The Journal still had a few blank pages, and Dan had begun his own entry.

 _Finally back safe and sound from one of the craziest days yet,_ he wrote. _This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust._

Phil shot the grappling hook, which brought back his stuffed lion toy. He looked over at Dan and grinned, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Dan twirled his pen.

 _But when you battle a bunch of gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize that they've probably always got your back._ Dan grinned back.

“Hey Phil, can you get the light?” He called.

Phil aimed at the lantern. “I got this.”

Dan closed his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Oh no…”

The grappling hook shot the lantern, shattering its glass, and sent it flying out the window. Phil stared open-mouthed.

“It worked!” Phil cried, and he began laughing. Dan couldn’t help but join in.

\--

The wind that wove its way against Dan and Phil’s window, the breeze that was scattered when the lamp flew out the room, twined its way down to the porch. And there, Stella rushed inside, closing the door. The wind’s prying fingers dissipated, reduced to a pesky updraft. Clutching a light, she walked past the lounge, where Dan and Phil had just talked about the Journal several hours ago. Once in the gift shop, she walked up the vending machine. The pale green glow from within illuminated her veined wrists as she punched in a code.

With a tremendous creak, the door gave way.

Stepping into the musky staircase behind it, Stella took a moment to stop. Turning back into the gift shop, her pupils scanned the perimeter of the room. Nobody was watching. She pushed the machine back into place.

But there was always someone watching. She was certain.

\--

Well, someone was going to have to explain to missing lamp in the morning. But for now, Dan listened to the whistling wind outside. On his nightstand was the Journal. His eyes trailed to Phil’s nightstand, which had his camera. Dan focused on Phil, whose silhouette showed he was lying on his back.

“Hey Phil?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For believing in— believing me. With the Journal.“

Dan almost turned over and stopped talking. But it was right, wasn’t it? Grammar aside, both meanings were right.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for believing in me too.” Dan said. He heard Phil’s mattress creak.

“Good night, Dan.” It was in a whisper, just like every night.

“Good night.”

Dan turned over and studied the question mark weathervane. Today’s events just begged even more questions. “What” was still right.

“Hey Dan?”

Dan’s breath hitched in his throat and he jerked in surprise. “Ah! What?”

There was one, two, three seconds of silence, and he realized that he’d just been scared by Phil. Again. He rolled onto his back and felt his cheeks grow warm with annoyance. Phil’s grin was so bright he could practically see it.

Barely above a whisper, Phil said, “I got you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZHOFRPH WR JUDYLWB IDOOV.  
> DQG WKDQN BRX IRU UHDGLQJ!


	2. The Legend of the Gobblewonker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you for all your kind comments! Here's chapter 2. I actually had written the first four over the summer but had to stop because of school, so if anyone wants to read chapters 3 and 4 I'll post them soon! It definitely won't be another 2 months.  
> Also, in regards to the scene after the ~~ paragraph break, that's supposed to be my version of the "credits scene" in the show.

It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes since the day began, and Phil was already at a loss. His eyes darted back and forth, and he paced the kitchen, wringing his hands, occasionally muttering under his breath.

Dan had quietly been amusing himself watching Phil’s hair grow increasingly messy as his friend paced, ran a hand through his short ginger-brown fringe, and paced again. 

“But, I just don’t know.” Phil said, his voice tight. 

“It’s alright, don’t feel bad.” Dan offered. 

“Argh!” Phil cried, draping an arm over his eyes. “I thought summer was supposed to be about less stress! Why do I have to be one tangled up in this mess?” 

Dan shook his head solemnly, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice as he replied, “Sometimes life just does that to you.” 

Phil dropped to his knees. “O the dilemma! I love waffles, and yet, cereal must beckon!” 

Suddenly he froze as if someone had unplugged a cord on his back. A slow smile crept upon his features as he triumphantly declared, “I can have both! A waffle and a bowl of cereal!” He was already to the fridge. “Yes! It’s brilliant!” 

Dan finished his last pancake. “Well done, Phil. But quit saying ‘brilliant’, we don’t need to seem more British than we already are.” 

Phil stumbled a little with the milk carton and snorted. “What, so I should say,” He put on a nasally, higher-pitched Californian accent, “’That was totally _radical_ , bro!’” 

“That makes us look even _more_ British, Phil!" Dan retorted with an eye roll. "Just keep your mouth shut for the rest of the summer.” 

Phil’s voice returned to its Northern accent as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. “No can do, _mate_ , I have to save my voice for the Super Amazing Project.” 

Dan straightened. “Oh, that reminds me. Phil, I think I just found our next feature for the show!” He held up the day’s paper and Phil peered closer after setting down his cereal bowl. 

His eyes widened at an advert. “Mega water shoes? You can walk on water!” 

Dan shook his head. “No no, this: ‘Monster Photo Contest. Grand prize, $1000.’” He scratched his head. “I don’t have it down solid but that’s gotta be at least 600 pounds. Maybe even 700. Wait, was it three fourths or four fifths of a dollar? Anyway Phil, we see weirder stuff than that every day! We didn't get any photos of those gnomes, did we?” 

Phil chewed his cereal, gazing upward as he thought. “Nope, just memories. And I got some beard hair.” 

Dan blinked. “Why'd you save that?” 

“It was cool.” Phil replied casually with a shrug. 

Before Dan could loudly inform Phil just how disturbing that was, Stella entered the kitchen. “Morning boys. It's Family Fun Day! We're having one of those bonding-type things.” 

Dan propped his chin on his fist. “Oh, so you and Phil are gonna frolic while I work?” 

“How many times we gotta tell you Dan, you _are_ family!” Phil said with a light punch to his shoulder. 

Stella came around to their chairs. “All right, maybe I haven't been the best summer caretaker. But I swear, today we're gonna have some real family fun. Now who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into my car?” 

“Yay!” Both boys cheered, then Dan paused. “Wait, what?” he asked. 

There was an awkward silence, then the kitchen rang with a loud ding. Phil’s eyes swiveled to Stella. 

“Can I have my waffle before we go? It _was_ a genius breakfast, after all.” Stella nodded and Phil ran over, already cramming half the waffle in his mouth. 

“Family fun day!” Stella exclaimed, handing them their blindfolds. 

“Family fun day!” Phil echoed. Dan managed a half-enthusiastic cheer. He grinned at Phil, who was attempting to tie the blindfold behind his head. 

“Don’t put that on till you’re in the car, genius.” He snorted. 

“Oh. Oh yeah,” Phil said, and both of them laughed all the way to the car. 

—

Stella’s car was a Cadillac-type vehicle with rusting red doors and a white roof, its license plate reading out “ESTLMBL”. Among the American models, her car was the only one with the steering wheel on the left front seat. 

Dan huddled in the backseat, blinking despite the blindfold over his eyes. To his left, Phil leaned back and attempted to hum to the radio. Stella leaned down to adjust the station while whistling a completely different tune, and the car swerved around a bend in the road. 

Dan’s teeth clenched as his body veered with the car. “This can’t be good.” He moaned, hugging his knees tighter. 

Phil swung his legs. He held up his hands and gaped at them as if they were a new invention. 

“Wow! I feel like all my other senses are heightened,” Phil gasped. Dan’s shallow breathing was the only response. 

Phil scooted toward him. “Hey Dan, I can see with my fingers!” He whispered. Phil outstretched his arms until he met Dan’s face. He rubbed his hands over Dan’s cheek and grinned. “Ooh, your face is so squishy! Squish!” He began poking it. 

Dan felt himself relax as he laughed, pushing Phil’s hands away. “Point made, Phil. Mrs. Lester, are you wearing a blindfold?” 

“I’m only responding to Graunty Stella from now on, Daniel. You and Philip are family, remember?” 

Dan crossed his arms. “Okay, fine. But are you wearing one? 

“Nah, but with these cataracts I might as well be.” She squinted. “What is that, a woodpecker?” 

It was not a woodpecker but in fact a guardrail, which Stella ran straight through at a nice cruising speed of forty-five miles per hour, eliciting a shriek from the kids. 

“What the heck did we just hit?” Dan yelped. 

The car ground to a stop and Stella sat up. “Oh look, we’re here. Hop on out!” 

"You sure?" Dan retorted weakly, but still unbuckled his seatbelt. 

Dan and Phil scooted out of the car, still blindfolded. Stella led them by the shoulders until they were facing her. 

After several minutes, Stella finally declared, “Okay, okay. Open 'em up!” 

They untied off their blindfolds, blinking and squinting. Was Dan hallucinating, or was Stella actually wearing fishing gear? He rubbed his eyes. She was definitely wearing fishing gear. Phil’s great aunt grinned, donned in shorts and cargo vest, and clutching three fishing rods. 

“Ta-da! It's fishin' season!” She announced with a flourish. Above her head was a painted sign: “FISHING SEASON OPENING DAY”. 

Phil bunched his blindfold into a ball. “Fishing?” He asked, incredulous. “I’m rubbish with a fishing rod! What if they nibble my fingers off?” 

"We're on the lake? I don't wanna have my hobbit hair for a whole day!" Dan protested.

Stella waved him off. “You're gonna love it! The whole town's out here!” 

Dan scanned the crowd. He spotted Lazy Susan, owner of the only decent diner in town, Toby Determined, the worst journalist he’d seen anywhere, and several other semi-familiar faces. It was difficult remembering names, but on their day trips to the supermarket or cinema Dan and Phil were occasionally greeted by some residents, already known simply as “Dan and Phil”. 

Before either of them could respond a sharp, raspy screech cut through the air. 

“I SEEN IT! I SEEN IT AGAIN!” A cross-eyed, gap-toothed old geezer shot across the dock. His long white beard waved wildly as he ran through several fishing rods, deliberately overturned a table, and just to make a point, slapped away some poor guy’s sandwich. 

Dan pressed a hand to his eyes. “Yep, we are definitely in Gravity Falls.” 

“The Gravity Falls Gobblewonker!” The old man was screeching. “Come quick before it scrabdoodles away!” Tate McGucket, the owner of the supplies stand, emerged with a spray bottle, spraying at the guy as if he was a tabby cat. “Hey, hey! Now what did I tell you about scaring my customers? This is your last warning, Dad!” 

“But I got proof this time, by gummity!” He shot back. 

Dan and Phil exchanged a glance, eyes wide. This could be a potential feature. 

The old man dashed over to the dock, followed by a small crowd and two policemen in a boat. He pointed at a wooden canoe smashed in half. 

“BEHOLD! It's the Gobble-dy-wonker what done did it! It had a long neck like a gee-raffe! And wrinkly skin like...like this lady right here!” He pointed at Stella, who blinked in confusion. 

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my Graunty,” Phil growled. 

Dan watched at how Stella’s features softened, patting the boy’s shoulder. 

“That’s quite alright, that’s enough Philip,” Stella reassured him, and Phil backed down, still glowering. Phil suddenly looked very young. The way his face was twisted, cheeks puffed out, bottom lip protruding, he seemed like an indignant toddler. Or maybe he just looked like a kid version of Stella when she was mad, he wasn’t sure. It almost made him wistful. 

The old geezer continued, ignoring Phil. “It chewed my boat up to smitheroons, and shim-shammed over to Scuttlebutt Island!” He pointed toward a jagged silhouette to the north. Dan assessed it to be about eight kilometers away. Should only take a little while by boat. He looked back at the old guy, who was waving his arms wildly. 

“YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME!” He howled. 

Sheriff Blubs, a round, dark-skinned fellow with shiny sunglasses and a gray moustache, adjusted the brim of his hat. “Attention all units! We got ourselves a crazy old man!” 

“And a Graunty insulter!” Phil added, his arms still folded. 

The lake erupted in a cacophony of laughter. Tate shook his head and Old Man McGucket walked off. “Aww, donkey spittle! Aw, banjo polish!” 

Stella stared after him. “Well, that happened. Now let's untie this boat and get out on that lake!” She stepped onto a little boat. 

Dan turned to Phil, his eyes wide. “Hey, did you hear what that old guy said?” 

Phil’s bottom lip stuck out again. “He called Graunty Stella’s skin wrinkly like the Gobblewonker.” 

Dan put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s alright Phil, that doesn’t matter. It’s great you can defend her like that, but I’m sure he didn’t mean anything.” 

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” He managed a smile, which Dan returned. 

“I meant the other thing.” Dan continued. “About the monster. If we can snag a photo of it, we can split the prize fifty-fifty.” 

Phil instantly perked up. “That's two fifties!” He exclaimed with a grin, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Imagine what you could do with five. Hundred. Dollars!” Dan cried, clenching his fists. 

Phil’s eyes widened. “I can get those water shoes. Dan, I am one million percent on board with this!” 

Dan called to Stella. “Change of plans! We're taking that boat and we're gonna find that Gobblewonker!” 

“It’ll be so cool, it’ll be like a real monster hunt!” Phil exclaimed. 

Stella folded her arms as she replied, “You really think I’d let you two disappoint yourselves like that?” 

There was the sound of a foghorn, and Louise pulled up in a larger boat, complete with an upper deck and control panel. “Did I hear monster hunt?” 

“Louise!” Dan and Phil cried, waving. “What are you doing here?” 

“Just some recreation, but I’d love to go hunting with you boys. You can use my boat!” She gestured toward the side, which had _S.S. Glitter_ painted in curly script. 

Stella put up her hands. “All right, all right, let's think this through. You kids could go waste your time on some crazy monster-finding adventure, or you could spend the day learning how to tie knots and skewer worms with your Graunty Stella!” 

Phil dashed over and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you, but that’s the most boring thing ever! Bye!” He clambered onto the boat. 

“Still technically not family, Mrs. Lester,” Dan added, doing a quick two finger salute before running off and joining Phil. 

They waved from the deck as Louise pulled away. Stella shook her head. These kids. \-- 

Dan struck a gallant pose, one foot on the guardrail, leaning slightly over the stern. “Hoist the anchor!” He called. 

Phil leaned away from the lake spray. “We're gonna find that Gobblewonker!” He yelled. 

“We're gonna win that photo contest!” Dan yelled even louder. He puffed out his chest. 

“ _Are either of you wearing bug spray?_ ” Louise shouted, louder than both of them. 

Dan froze. “Oh right. We're gonna... go get bug spray!” The boat made a U-turn. 

The underside of the boat cast a watery silhouette. Glimmering bars of sunlight shivered under the waves. A current skipped above the surface and disappeared. Below, a form writhed in the depths of the lake. 

—

Dan paced the deck under the merciless Oregon sun. He wiped his brow as Louise and Phil regarded him closely, both sitting on the deck. 

“Alright. If we wanna win this contest, we've gotta do it right! Think. What's the number one problem with most monster hunts?” 

“We have a risk of dying?” Louise guessed. 

Phil crossed his legs and stroked his chin. “Oh, I know! You make the monster mad by being too stupid and then it forces you to perform a ritual sacrifice with fishing hooks. And you lose your liver or something. Or maybe it’s your arm.” 

Louise nudged him with a grin. “How does your brain work like that?” 

Phil patted his chest. “It’s a gift.” 

Dan’s lip quivered as he tried not to smile. “No! Camera trouble! Say Bigfoot shows up. That's why I brought _fifteen_ disposable cameras! Keep a hold of them!” He leaned over the edge. “Make sure you don’t…” the camera slipped from his grasp and sank. “…drop them.” 

Phil cupped his hands over his mouth. “Ooh, butterfingers, Dan.” 

“Shut up. We still have fourteen.” 

Suddenly a seagull flew by, squawking and wings a white blur. Phil yelped, flailing his arms. The camera whirled away from him, smashing to smithereens on the deck. 

Dan hissed through his teeth. “Ooh, bad move there, Phil.” 

“Your mum’s a bad move,” Phil jabbed. 

Louise came between them. “Hey, why don’t we focus on directions? I can take the wheel, Phil can be lookout.” 

Dan nodded toward the barrel of fish food they’d brought as a lure. “I can help set that up—" 

Phil dashed up to the barrel. “You wonder what that tastes like?” He asked. 

“That’s revolting, Phil.” Dan announced, and Louise cocked her head. 

Phil brushed them off. “I hear it just tastes like seawater. Plus, I still have the chance to become Fishboy! The superhero I was always meant to be.” 

"Yeah, when you were six," Dan pointed out. "Besides, who needs superpowers when you got some sweet cash?" 

Dan turned to Louise. “Thanks for taking us out here. It's way better than fishing for ten hours.” 

—

Stella couldn’t say she was having a better time. She reclined on her boat, shifting every three seconds on the splintered wood. 

"Traitors! Ah, I'll find my own fishing buddies!” Stella grumbled. She looked to her right and grinned. “There's my new pals!” She exclaimed, starting the engine. 

A few yards away, a young man turned away from the other passenger on his canoe. Cracking open a little box, he blinked at a gleaming ring. He exhaled once. 

Turning back to the passenger, he looked into her eyes. His voice trembled. “Now that we're alone, Rosanna, there's a _burning_ question which my heart _longs_ to ask of you.” 

He kept his eyes fixated on Rosanna and realized hers were gleaming with tears. “Oh, Reginald!” She gasped. 

They had done it. Despite the odds, home was now Gravity Falls, and it was all that mattered--- 

“Hey!” A raspy voice combined with a puttering boat engine took the sappiness of the moment and destroyed it. And then regenerated it and destroyed it again. It was that bad. 

“Wanna hear a joke?” Stella yodeled. “Here goes. My ex-wife still misses me… _but her aim is gettin' better!_ ” 

Reginald stared. What was this person doing in their magical fluffy marriage story? Was this some kind of sick plot twist? Side characters died within the first five minutes of a horror movie. He did wonder sometimes if he was a side character… or even worse, if he was a one-time cameo in some cheap attempt at a joke. That was too just horrible to imagine. 

“Her aim is gettin' better!" Stella repeated. "See? It's funny ‘cause marriage is terrible.” 

Snapped back to reality, Reginald saw Rosanna fold her arms. Aw man… He quickly rowed off. 

“What?” Stella called. 

—

The _S.S. Glitter_ was sailing smoothly for the most part. Phil wasn’t sure if the fog around them resembled steam or cotton balls. Or meringue? His mum did make some amazing pies. Phil squinted through the fog that lay like steam- no, cotton balls… no, meringue? 

Phil squinted through the fog that lay like steaming cotton ball shaped meringue over the lake. He startled at a flash of brown. 

“What the heck is a squirrel doing out here?” Phil asked aloud. 

“Phil, you might wanna save that for the monster--” Dan started, but Phil was already snapping away at the squirrel, perched elegantly on a piece of driftwood. At the first flash it tensed up, baring its teeth. Phil swore he heard a scare chord. 

“Wh-whoa, okay… backing away from the rabid squirrel,” he stammered. He turned away from it and went to the guardrail. 

“Hey, aren't you supposed to be doing lookout?” Dan asked, flipping through the Journal. 

Phil leaned on the guardrail. “We haven’t seen anything in forever, and with all this fog I can’t even see—” 

Phil’s toe lost its grip on the slick wood. With a yelp, he pitched forward, scrabbling at air as his entire upper half began to tip forward. The green-blue of the lake swirled into black as Phil screwed his eyes shut. Performing an awkward flip over the rail, he toppled forward and was in free-fall… 

…For about two seconds. He felt the breath leave him in a whoosh as his back slammed into solid ground. He was lying flat on his back, his head close to the wall of the _S.S Glitter_ , staring up at its curly script. _That rules out being a gymnast_ , he thought briefly. 

“Phil!” He heard Dan shriek. There was the sound his feet pattering across the deck. He heard other noises and assumed Louise was out as well. 

“Phil! Are you alright?! Say something!” he shouted, his voice high-pitched and frantic. 

“We made it!” Phil yelled triumphantly. Dan and Louise’s heads poked out from the guardrail. Louise blinked, wide-eyed, while Dan’s flicker of terror lapsed into relief. Then his eyebrows scrunched and he instantly looked faintly annoyed, his default reaction whenever Phil did anything stupid. 

“Land-ho! Do pirates say that?” Phil was still on his back, limbs outstretched like a Phil-starfish. 

“I don’t think anyone says that, dingus,” Dan deadpanned. Phil simply grinned cheekily back at him. 

Dan sighed, then grabbed an oil lamp from the deck and climbed down the rail, followed by Louise. 

"Let's go get that monster," Dan beckoned. Phil sat up, ignoring the brief head rush, and went with them. A few paces ahead was a sign. 

“Scuttlebutt Island, we’re here!” Dan exclaimed with a stifled snicker. Louise stepped in front of the “scuttle” with a barely suppressed grin. 

“Check it out, Butt Island!” She announced, and she and Dan both sputtered. 

Phil rolled his eyes. “Oh brilliant, I get to be the mature one now!” He said as Dan laughed behind him. 

Suddenly a low growl cut through the air. Dan and Louise immediately dropped their smiles while Phil recoiled. “I’m scared,” he muttered almost automatically. 

“Was that someone’s stomach?” Dan asked. He began to approach Louise when she interrupted with, “No it wasn’t, and don’t touch my stomach or I’ll feed you to the monster.” 

Dan stepped back held the lantern at arm’s length. “Right then. Just walk slowly,” he advised. 

Phil walked ahead of them, but not before whispering to Dan, “I heard you shouting! You sounded like I’d died or something.” 

“Never mind that, let’s just focus on the—” Dan hissed, but the same noise cut through the air again before he could finish speaking. Dan cautiously reached toward his camera. 

“This could be it! Let’s keep moving.” 

—

About a half hour of walking had gone by and no other noises had occurred. Even Dan was beginning to yawn. 

“Make a duet about Phil’s name,” Louise suggested. 

Dan turned around. “What, like right now?” 

Louise nodded. “Yeah! A little spontaneity never hurt anyone.” 

Dan nodded, then began to beatbox. Phil grinned, then faltered. “O-oh wait, that means I’m rapping, I- uh- right, okay: 

_My name is Phil,_

 _It rhymes with bill_

 _

It also rhymes with gill 

It also rhymes with dill… pickles? 

It- no, no no no!

_

Phil’s “rap” broke off into a mixture of laughter from Louise and Phil and groans from Dan: “I had a perfectly good beat there Phil, you’re terrible.” His smirk faded as a flock of birds took to the air, cawing. Dan reached toward his camera, looking ahead as the growl rang through the air. 

“This is it! This is it!” Dan whispered excitedly. He and Phil walked toward the sound, punching each other ecstatically with huge grins plastered on their faces. 

Louise’s eyes widened as a watery silhouette loomed out of the fog. “Get down!” she hissed, pulling them aside behind a log. “And get your cameras ready!” 

Dan was still enough to process his surroundings. Splinters pressed into his ankles, and he tightened his hand around his camera, feeling the ridges and buttons. A day ago, he’d never believe he’d be here, fighting a monster, yet here he was. 

Several seconds passed, and when the silhouette still didn’t move Louise sprang from behind the log. “Now!” she yelled. 

They dashed forward, snapping away, but the silhouette didn’t move. It wasn’t until they were close enough did they make out the splintered sections of a boat’s remains, occupied by beavers. They thumped the wood with their tails, milling about. 

Phil gasped. “Beavers! How neat is that? We hardly see them back home!” 

“Beavers?” Louise asked faintly. “Well, it’s not the worst surprise.” 

Phil smiled at two embracing. “Beavers doing their little beaver hug! How cute is that?” He snapped a photo. 

Dan frowned. “Wait, then what was that noise?” He looked over and saw another beaver, who was gnawing at a chainsaw, occasionally setting it off. 

Phil smiled again. “Beaver with a chainsaw! That doesn’t even need explaining.” He snapped another few photos. 

Dan groaned and pressed his hands to his face. “Agh, this whole thing’s become a disaster.” 

Phil put away his camera as Dan leapt over to a nearby boulder in the lake waters and sat down. He absentmindedly chucked a pebble in the lake. 

“What are we gonna say to Stella? We ditched her over nothing.” 

Phil grimaced. “I’m sorry Dan, but maybe we still have a chance?” 

Dan merely sighed in response. He studied his reflection, with its rippled edges and scattered colors. His hair almost looked curly at the ends. There was a shake and a reverberation passed through the water. Dan’s frown dispersed into a wobbly line and his eyes stretched until they resembled runny egg whites. His entire reflection dissolved like watercolors. Dan tensed as the air seemed to vibrate like his reflection, huge tremors that shivered through his body. He managed to stand. 

“Hey, guys do you feel that---?” His question broke off into a gasp and a shout of “Whoa, whoa!” as the rock suddenly dipped below the surface, pitching Dan into the shallows. He paddled awkwardly with his lifejacket as Phil and Louise pulled him up to shore. Dan felt lake spray at his back and Phil muttered, “Oh, we definitely still have a chance.” 

Dan whipped around to see a murky shadow colored a distinct shade of green. An arched back and tail swam above the surface as a shapeless form stretched below. 

Dan gaped. “This is it!” He snapped a photo and turned around to face Phil and Louise, who didn’t respond and only backed up further. Phil’s jaw was slack, and Louise didn’t look any calmer. 

“What's wrong with you guys?” Dan asked, raising his eyebrows. “All you gotta do is point, and shoot. Like this!” 

Turning back around, he squinted at his camera, only seeing a scaly green chest. 

_Alright, just pan up a little,_ Dan thought coolly. _Make sure it’s focused, and oh right, giant monster face… **wHAT THE HHHHEEEE---?!?!?!??!**_

The fated Gravity Falls Gobblewonker looked like a bizarre cross between a dragon and alligator, and now it was two feet from Dan’s face. Still holding that stupid little camera, Dan stared as the monster roared, showing off two rows of gleaming jagged teeth. 

“RUN!” Louise screamed, and some neuron in Dan’s brain clicked. Running faster than he ever cared to in gym class, the camera was forgotten as Dan raced after a screaming Phil and Louise. 

Somehow, the Gobblewonker followed in hot pursuit. 

“HOW CAN IT GO ON LAND?!” Dan screamed as he caught up to Phil, partly as a rhetorical question and partly as pure frustration. What was Gravity Falls trying to do, kill them or kill them from curiosity? 

Digging its jaws into a tree, the Gobblewonker toppled the massive evergreen by its roots. Dan seized Phil’s wrist and dragged him away before the tree nearly crushed them both. He blindly grabbed another backup camera in his lifejacket, only for his shoe to snag on a branch. He managed not to fall, but the camera tumbled out of his grasp. 

“No! The photo!” Dan yelled hoarsely, and this time it was Louise who grabbed his wrist and forced them to keep running. 

“Get back to the boat! HURRY!” She yelled, and Dan had forgotten about his breathing as adrenaline shook him like a rag doll. 

Next to him, Louise added, “If it makes you feel any better, Phil got tons of pictures of those beavers!” 

“WHY WOULD THAT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?!” Dan screamed in response, and at that moment the trees cleared and Louise practically threw them into the boat. Phil hoisted the anchor while Louise wildly slammed the control panel, sending the puttering boat out towards the way they came. Already, the waters were trembling as the Gobblewonker slithered to the clearing and leapt in, paddling furiously. 

Dan yelled to Louise, “My other backup’s broken, get a photo!” 

Louise, meanwhile, was desperately throwing the rest of the cameras at the Gobblewonker. 

Dan didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh insanely. _“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_ ” He sputtered raggedly. 

“Trying to save our lives?” Louise shouted as she threw the last camera. “What other weapons do we have?!” 

He turned his head to see Phil, gripping the steering wheel with a look of pure terror. 

“Never mind that, just GO!” Phil yelled above the fray, and Louise needed no second bidding. Scrambling to the controls, she accelerated the boat, and they continued to careen across the blue waters. 

—

Stella was fumbling with her fishing hook when she heard the voice, honey-sweet and almost pathetically adorable: “Can you please tell me more funny stories, Mamma?” 

She looked up and saw a pair of boys. The one who spoke had a huge blond bush of hair. His voice was the closest little boy inflection to Winnie the Pooh to she’d ever heard. She squinted. 

“Mamma” was a wrinkled, smiling older woman with graying hair. She looked like the relative of the other boy, who had an ambiguous hair color that could only be described as ginger-brown, and striking blue eyes. 

“Anything for my fishing buddies!” She laughed, patting them on their heads. Both of them smiled sweetly. 

Realizing the uncanny, almost insulting, resemblance, Stella growled audibly. 

The first boy’s eyes widened as he said, “Mamma? I just realized that…” his voice dropped to an affectionate whisper. “ _I wuv you._ ” 

The other boy’s smile grew even wider. “We’re like a big happy family,” he declared. 

Stella was never in the mood for blunt visual metaphors. “Aw, come on! Boo! Boo!” She jeered. 

The old woman turned. “Hey, now! What's the big idea?” She complained. 

The blond boy frowned slightly. “Maybe she is sad,” he suggested. 

“Yeah, well, I... I...” Stella began, only to hear a distant scream. She didn’t manage to even turn around when a rolling wave overtook her boat, drenching her completely. The _S.S Glitter_ , with its screaming passengers, raced by, followed by the Gobblewonker. Stella wrung out her hat as she stared after them. 

—

Phil rubbed the lakewater out of his eyes and pointed. “Again, what the heck is a squirrel doing out here?!” 

Dan ran up next to him. “What?” 

Somehow still floating on that piece of driftwood was the squirrel Phil took a photo of earlier. The driftwood was being pulled along by a strand of rope caught on the boat side. The animal still looked rabid, growling with its teeth bared. Suddenly, it made an impossible two-meter leap—right onto Phil’s arm. 

“What is even going on anymore?!” Phil shrieked, waving his arm desperately as the squirrel attempted to gnaw through his sweater sleeve. He scrambled across the deck, still screaming. 

Dan ran up to Phil and attempted to shake his shoulders to get the animal off. The squirrel continued chewing away and Dan just succeeded in spinning Phil a few times across the deck like a bizarre dance move, with both “dancers” screaming bloody murder. 

Louise was still at the wheel as she wove through several canoes, only for it to end up pointless as the Gobblewonker capsized them all, leaving a current of destruction in its wake. 

Dan glanced about wildly. Louise kept her eyes glued to the water, Phil was still sprawled on the deck wailing, “Why do I have to attract all the weird stuff?” as the squirrel continued chewing his sweater sleeve, and they were about to collide with the waterfall, closed in by two high cliffs. Dan rapidly flipped through the Journal, speed reading like no one’s business. Why couldn’t he be like this in school? 

“Where do I go?!” Louise shouted desperately, snapping him back to reality. 

Dan scanned a page. “Um... uh... FORWARD! I think there might be a cave behind the falls! Plus video games always have a secret cave behind a waterfall!” 

“MIGHT BE?!” Louise shouted. 

There was no time to think of another option. The roaring of the waterfall couldn’t even drown out Dan and Louise’s terrified screams, plus Phil’s outraged screaming at the squirrel on his arm. 

There was a flash of white, a second of watery, icy darkness, and then the boat emerged on the other side of the falls. It crashed into a rocky shore and Dan, Phil, and Louise tumbled out. 

Phil got to his feet and disgustedly shook the dazed squirrel off his arm. “And stay off!” He spat. Not even a millisecond had passed by and his eyes lit up in terror again. The Gobblewonker was closing in. The three of them stared in horror as the entire monster loomed into the entrance, roaring wildly. Then Dan saw it wasn’t moving, only thrashing its front flippers. 

Phil’s face broke into a grin. “It's stuck!” He cried. 

“Yeah! It’s- wait, it’s stuck?” Dan cried. He sat up and shook the water out his hair, which had reverted to its natural curls from the moisture. 

The lifesaving waterfall cave they had driven into was a blue-shadowed nook of rocks and calcium buildup, dripping with lake water and laden with thick mist. There was a shallow pool, which they had driven into, the dirt and pebble filled strip of land they were standing on, and a rocky path that traveled up the carbonate wall in a spiral. 

The three dashed up the path in the waterfall cave until they were standing on the precipice, on level with the monster’s head. 

Dan patted his lifejacket. “Wait, I don’t have any—“ 

Dan turned around just as Phil pulled out the last and fifteenth backup camera from his sweater pocket with a grin. 

“Yes!” Dan exclaimed as he snatched it up, bouncing from foot to foot and laughing as he took a dozen or so pictures. 

Phil leaned forward. “Any good ones?” 

“They’re all good ones!” Dan yelled, and the cave echoed with their cheers. The Gobblewonker continued to writhe, sending stalactites and other debris showering down on it. 

Suddenly a chunk of rock tumbled from the cave walls. It soundly hit the monster on the crown of its head. Sparks burst from its ears and it slowly sank to the ground. Mechanical whirs and chirps emitted from within and died. 

“What just happened?” Louise asked. Dan and Phil stared. 

Dan crept forward. Hopping down the cliff, he walked across the Gobblewonker’s fin and tapped its side, recoiling at its metallic touch. “Whoa.” 

“What’s wrong?” Phil called from above. He scrambled down and joined Dan. 

“I think there might be something at the top.” He mused. 

“Oh, no worries,” Phil said, and made a climbing motion. “You just gotta find footholds. Like that,” he gestured to the various screws in the monster- or machine? Phil gingerly placed his feet on the screws, slowly inching up the side. Dan followed, copying Phil’s movements. He was just approaching the top when Phil called, “Hey, guys! Come check this out!” 

It was a metal hatch with a revolving handle. Dan and Phil exchanged a glance and nodded. With a burst of steam, the door gave way and they heard a familiar cackle. 

“Work the bellows and the...Eh? Aww, banjo polish!” Old Man McGucket cried, seated at an array of buttons and screens. 

Dan tripped over his words. “Wha- Y-You?! You made this? W-w-why?” 

“Well, I...I, uh...” He scanned them, drenched, shivering, and wearing looks of pure confusion. “I just wanted attention.” He admitted. 

“Don’t we all,” Dan muttered, casting a sheepish glance at Phil. Louise piped up. “I don’t understand though.” 

“Well, first I just hootenannied up a biomechanical brain wave generator, and then I learned to operate a stick-shift with ma beard!” 

“Okay, yeah. But why did you do it?” Phil asked. 

McGucket almost looked remorseful. “Well, when you get to be an old fella like me, nobody pays any attention to you anymore. My own son hasn't visited me in months! So I figured maybe I'd catch his fancy with a fifteen-ton aquatic robot!” He cackled. 

“In retrospect, it seems a bit contrived. You just don't know the length us old-timers go through for a little quality time with our family.” He shook his head solemnly, his long white beard waving back and forth. 

Dan glanced over at Phil, who simply said, “Family means you too, Dan. Graunty Stella actually wants to spend time with you. Don’t act like you’re off the hook here.” 

Dan sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Turning back to McGucket, Phil attempted conversation: “So, did you ever talk to your son about how you felt?” 

A projector on the door featured a series of contrived blueprints as McGucket answered, “No, sir, I got to work straight on the robot! I made lots of robots in my day! Like when my wife left me and I created a homicidal pterodactyl-tron, or when my pal Ernie didn't come to my retirement party.” A glint came in his eye and his mouth twisted into a grin as he growled, “I constructed an eighty-ton SHAME BOT THAT EXPLODED THE ENTIRE DOWNTOWN AREA!” His self-indulgent spiel broke off into maniacal laughter. 

Dan grabbed hold of the door. “Alrighty then, it wasn’t nice meeting you bye!” He abruptly slammed the hatch door shut. 

Phil meanwhile was emptying his sweater pockets. He stared at an almost empty bag of Gravity Falls toffee peanuts. “Are you kidding me?!” he groaned, inspecting his shredded sleeve. 

Dan stared at his camera. “Well, so much for the photo contest.” 

Phil looked closer at it. “You still have a roll of film left. What do you want to do with it?” 

—

The waters glowed a clear lavender as the the sun dipped beneath the falls, the lake spray mingled with the aroma of pine trees and local barbeques. 

“Hey! Over here!” Dan called. Louise navigated the beat-up _S.S Glitter_ over to Stella’s boat. Phil waved and Dan held up his camera. 

“Philip! I thought you said fishing was the most boring thing ever!” Stella’s grand-nephew managed a smile as he grabbed a fishing rod. 

“Well, we spent all day trying to find a ‘legendary’ dinosaur.” Dan explained. “But we realized, the only dinosaur we wanna hang out with... is right here.” 

Stella folded her arms. “Save your sympathy, Daniel. I’ve been having a fantastic time on my own. I’ve even caught a few fish,” she gestured towards her catches. 

Phil nodded, impressed. “Can you teach me?” He asked. “We do really wanna fish with you.” 

“As a family.” Dan persisted. “And we’d like to spend time with you."

Dan paused, then added, "...Graunty Stella.” 

Louise had been rummaging in the lower deck of Stella’s boat. Amid a jumble of fishing hooks and nets, she gasped at two other items. 

“Oh my gosh, hats!” She squealed. “Stella, did you stitch these yourself? They’re adorable! Oh, now you have to let them in with you!” She held up two beige fishing hats, affixed with sown on cloth letters. One had a lopsided “Phil” in bright colors, and the other was “Dan”, in all black. 

Stella sighed. “Alright, I guess I can make room for three more.” Louise grinned and nudged the hats onto the boys. 

Dan grabbed his own fishing rod and sat down next to Phil, who turned to him and slung an arm around his shoulder. 

"Welcome to the family, Dan.” He laughed. 

~~

With a synchronized flourish, Dan and Phil whipped off their plastic glasses. “NEWS.” They announced. 

“We’re opening episode two of the Super Amazing Project with more Gravity Falls local legend.” Dan stated. Phil leaned in front of him, arms outstretched, as he narrated, “THE GOBBLEWONKER.” 

“Yes, while sounding ridiculous it was a beast to behold. I think it was like, a kilometer tall?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Okay, uh, and said legend claimed it lived in the very depths of the town lake…” 

There was a messy jump cut, and a screen reading “BREAKING NEWS!” flashed onscreen. 

Phil cut in with, “But today changed all that! Two intrepid explorers sought to find the Gobblewonker once and for all!” while Dan confusedly whispered, “Intrepid?” under his breath. 

“After taking a boat to the nearby island, the monster was revealed to be a robot! But not before the two barely escaped with their lives!” Phil continued, nodding for emphasis with his fists raised in the air. “Very brave, those two.” 

Dan was practically slumped on the table when he droned, “Nah Phil, we were idiots.” 

Phil reluctantly lowered his fists. “Yeah, we were pretty stupid.” 

Dan peered at him through his arms. “Wanna do another take?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LW'V D ELUG! LW'V D SODQH! LW'V ILVKERB!  
> WKDQNV IRU UHDGLQJ!


	3. Headhunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and Happy Halloween! Unfortunately I don't have Summerween (yet?) but hopefully you enjoy chapter 3!

“Alright, I’m pressing play… nooowww!” Phil called. He froze, thumb over the play button, eyes wide. 

From the kitchen Dan ambled in with a bowl of popcorn and paper towels as Phil hit play on their DVD. Dan grabbed a fistful of popcorn before setting the bowl down. 

The room filled with the opening credits tune and the rustling of popcorn and paper towels being moved around. Phil stretched his legs in front of him and pulled up his socks slightly, today’s mismatched choice being a solid blue and blue with black stripes. Dan had already crammed another few handfuls of popcorn in his mouth before Phil took his first piece. 

Phil chewed and immediately grimaced. “It’s burnt!” He protested. 

“Oh, I did that intentionally. I like my popcorn overcooked.” Dan replied, and swiveled his eyes over to Phil, who was swallowing his popcorn as if it was a handful of rusty nails. Phil nudged the bowl closer to Dan with his toe, the one with a solid blue sock. 

Phil made a face at his oil-slick hand. “Why’d you put so much butter?” He protested, and wiped his palm on a paper towel. 

“Oh come on, it’s not that greasy.” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I’m fully aware, thanks.” 

Louise ran into the lounge. “Boys, you’ll never guess what I found!” 

Dan held up the bowl with a smile. “Popcorn?” 

Phil sprang up with a look of pure terror. “Don’t do it, he’s trying to poison you with burnt greasiness!” 

Louise laughed. “Well, I found popcorn,” she said, taking a piece while Phil fell to the carpet in mock horror. “And something else.” 

“Buried treasure!” Dan cried. 

“Buried—” Phil laughed and swatted at Dan’s shoulder. “Hey! I was gonna say that.” 

Louise reached for more popcorn. “It’s not that bad, actually. I like the extra butter, we’re like butter gluttons over here.” 

Dan grinned. “ _Butter gluttons_ , that’s a great phrase. We should start a fan club.” He began laughing at the idea. 

“Why would I want a fan club called The Butter Gluttons?” Louise protested over Dan’s guffaws. 

“Yeah Dan, who else would join besides you two?” Phil asked with an elbow jab to Dan’s shaking shoulders. 

“Just come look at what I found,” Louise grumbled, leading Dan by the wrist as he crowed, “The Butter Gluttons!” between bouts of laughter. Phil scampered behind them. 

\-- 

They had turned two corners and up a flight of stairs. Dan and Phil had watched the house age and deteriorate around them. First the wallpaper shed its colors for rotting wood, then the hallway lapsed into a bare emptiness as the various paintings and family photos faded from the walls. Then as they approached the room, a patch of hallway was painted over with darkness. 

Phil glanced up and saw a pair of light bulbs. One had burnt out completely, and the other was flickering between darkness and barely dim light. 

Louise pointed to a hole in the wall. “So, I was cleaning up, when I found this secret door, hidden behind the wallpaper.” 

They looked and saw slight rips along the wallpaper up, around, and down in the shape of a doorframe. Louise gave the wall a light push and cobwebs stretched like string and broke apart. Stale, cold air swirled about the room as they stepped inside. 

Dan’s breath caught in his throat as a pair of dusty, vacant eyes stared back at them. They were everywhere; lifelike, but still as statues, which is precisely what they were. 

“It’s a wax museum,” he gasped, shining his flashlight around. 

“All American made, too,” Louise commented. “They must be the real deal.” 

Phil ran his pointer finger across a black cape, tinted with a layer of dust, frozen in mid-swish. Wax Sherlock Holmes wore a permanent gaze of determination, gripping a magnifying glass. 

“It’s so lifelike,” Phil murmured. 

Dan gazed about the room. The flashlight beam swept the ceiling beams, capturing dancing dust motes and abandoned spider webs. 

“Except for that one,” Dan said, shining his light on a torso. 

“Hello,” Stella held up a hand, squinting at the flashlight beam on her face. 

“AHHH!” The three screamed. 

Stella chuckled. “It’s just me, your Graunty Stella!” 

Dan’s hand shook with his voice and the beam cast erratic shadows on the walls. “W-wow, you scare better th-than Phil! Must run in the family. Can you teach me?” 

Stella dusted off her shoulders. “Trust me, lad, you’re about as intimidating as a pink butterfly stuck to a marshmallow.” 

Dan scowled at the muffled snickers from Phil and Louise behind him. “Thanks,” he muttered. 

“But sure. By the end of summer you’ll be able to scare anyone you want.” Stella placed a hand over her heart and closed her eyes. “Scammer’s promise.” 

She opened one eye. “But we all know who your only target’s gonna be.” 

“THANKS A LOT, DAN,” Phil groaned from behind him, and Dan managed a small but devilish smile. 

Dan swept his flashlight beam over the room again, trying to blot out the puddles of shadows that lurked in the darkest corners. As cool as the room was, he _had_ been waiting all week to watch that movie with Phil, and his “butter glutton” popcorn was probably getting cold, and the next few Journal entries looked interesting, and... alright, maybe he couldn't deny the rapid thudding in his chest, his breath tightening when his gaze lingered on the shadowy walls for too long. 

“Mind giving us a tour?” he asked instead. 

Stella stepped forward, shifting to her Mystery Shack tour guide voice. “Behold the Gravity Falls Wax Museum!” She gestured at the array. “It was one of our most popular attractions... before I forgot all about it.” She led the trio forward. 

“I got 'em all!” Stella exclaimed, naming each one as she walked. “Genghis Khan, Sherlock Holmes…” She frowned at a grinning old man with suspenders and a microphone. “…Some kind of, I don't know, goblin man?” 

Dan glanced around and shuddered at the rows of vacant wax eyes. “Hey, isn't anyone else getting the creeps here?” he blurted, feeling his face grow warm. 

Louise clasped her hands together at the sight of his reddened cheeks. “Poor Danny’s afraid of the dark! You really are just a butterfly stuck to a marshmallow!” 

“A _pink_ one,” Phil clarified, as Dan folded his arms. 

Stella had walked on without them. “And now for my personal favorite: Wax Abraham Lincoln, right over—” She stared, aghast, at the remains of Lincoln reduced to a runny gray puddle. It lay melting in a rectangle of sunlight. 

“Oh! Oh no!” Stella cried. “Come on, who left the blinds open? Wax John Wilkes Booth, I'm looking in your direction!” 

Phil dashed up to his great aunt as she ran a finger through the still-warm wax. “How do you fix a wax figure?” she muttered. 

Phil gazed upon the wax puddle. “What if I made a new figure from all this wax? Dye works on it, right?” 

“Yeah, but you really think you can make one of these?” 

Phil smiled suavely and patted his chest. “Graunty Stella, I’m an arts and crafts master. I’ll make the ultimate wax statue, just for you!” 

Stella smiled. “I like your gumption, Philip.” 

“Thank you, but I’d save all the posh words for Sir Daniel over there.” 

“I HEARD THAT,” Dan called, and Phil grinned. 

\-- 

After an hour of transferring the wax onto a pedestal, shaping it into a block, and letting it cool, Phil stood poised with a chisel, a sketchpad and pencils, and a floppy red beret (for the “look”, he insisted). 

Dan walked by, took a swig of his drink, and instantly regretted it as Phil leapt in front of him. 

“Dan!” 

Dan froze mid-swig, his inflated cheeks gargling with soda. He managed to swallow and doubled over, coughing out carbonated soda fizz. Phil held up his sketchpad with several doodles. 

“What do you think of my wax figure idea?” he asked as Dan wheezed slightly, wiping his mouth. Phil’s sketchpad featured a picture of a young boy. 

“He’s half centaur…” Phil began. Dan’s gaze panned further down, his eyes bulging. From the boy’s stomach protruded a horse head, then a horse’s body with human legs. 

“…And half centaur… uh, centaur!” Phil smiled hopefully. 

Dan glanced at his Pitt Cola can. “Y’know, now I kinda wished I _had_ choked on this so I wouldn't have to see that,” he considered, looking again at the label. 

“Maybe I still have a chance,” he quipped with a shrug, and began gulping down the rest of the can. 

Phil waved him off. “You just don’t know some good, creepy art when you see it,” he scoffed. 

Dan nodded in agreement. “That is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen in my life, alright.” 

“And you have a better idea?” Phil folded his arms, incredulous. 

Dan scrunched up his nose. “Yeah! Uh, you could… try something from real life.” 

Stella walked in the room, her bare arms crossed. She had her usual Mystery Shack outfit on, but the blazer was missing. 

“Has anyone seen my suit?” She asked. She stepped onto a box with one foot, squinting. Phil stared as a beam of sunlight illuminated her features. 

He gazed upward. “O muse, you work in mysterious ways.” 

Stella cast a confused glance at Dan. “Why's your friend talking to the ceiling?” 

\-- 

The rest of afternoon was quite literally whittled away as Phil tapped out his statue. At 5pm, Louise, Dan, and Phil stood before the completed creation. 

“I think… it needs more glitter,” Phil muttered, stroking his chin. 

“Say no more,” Louise declared, brandishing an entire bucket of pink glitter. Phil randomly tossed a handful onto his Wax Stella. 

Stella entered the room again, padding across the wood in her socks. “Well, I found my blazer, but now I'm missing my—” she froze in her tracks. 

Phil turned. Stella was dumbstruck, regarding the statue with widened eyes. Her lips parted. A breath trembled in her throat. 

“Graunty Stella? Are you okay?” Phil asked. 

“St—? I, I…Oh.” she finally said. 

“Is— is it bad?” Phil pressed, his voice sounding slightly more frantic. 

Stella turned and startled as if noticing Phil for the first time. 

“Wh-what do you think?” her grand nephew asked. She gazed upon him, with his messy hair and mismatched socks, hugging the glitter bucket close to his chest. Finally, her face broke into a grin. 

“I think the Wax Museum’s back in business!” she cried. “We’ll open up shop tomorrow morning.” 

\-- 

Dan rocked his chair back and forth, mulling the dirt with his toes. He took another dollar from another guest. 

“I can't believe this many people showed up,” Dan commented, turning to Cat with raised eyebrows. 

Cat nodded. “I know, right? Stella probably bribed them or something.” 

Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. “Did she bribe you too?” 

Cat held up her dollar and they both snickered. 

Phil, meanwhile, was poised on the makeshift stage Stella put together for the big reveal, fingers twined and barely suppressing a huge grin. Behind them were all the wax figures and the latest one underneath a sheet. Stella went to the podium and flashed Phil a thumbs up. 

Stella tapped the mic before speaking. “You all know me, folks! Town darling, ‘Mrs. Mystery.’” 

Ignoring the dull silence from the crowd, she continued. “As you know, I always bring the people of this fair town novelties and befuddlements, the likes of which the world has never known. But enough about me. Behold... me!” She whipped off the sheet, revealing a very glittery Wax Stella, courtesy of Louise, who smiled next to Phil. The audience offered sparse applause. 

“And now a word from our own Philip ‘Michelangelo’ Lester!” Stella grinned, partly because of Phil and partly at the cleverness of her pun. 

“Good one,” he whispered just before taking the mic. “Thank you, Graunty Stella. Thank you for coming! I made this sculpture with my own two hands!” He threw up his arms. “And I worked really hard on it, it’s covered in all sorts of fluids!” 

From the other side of the field, Dan slammed his head on the table while Cat let out muffled squeals of laughter into her hands. 

The audience all gave Phil a collective grimace, who blanched even paler than he already was. “Uh, as in pine resin. And polish. And glue.” 

At this point, Dan was groaning, “ _Phil…_ ” into his arms as Cat continued snickering. 

“Is this why you’re friends?” She elbowed him in the ribs. 

Without missing a beat, Dan deadpanned, “This is precisely why I hate him, Cat.” 

Phil chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. I will now take questions!” He pointed toward the back. “Yes?” 

McGucket from the lake stood. “Old Man McGucket, local kook. Are the wax figures alive? And follow-up question, can I survive the wax-man uprising?” 

“Um...Yes! Next question!” 

Toby Determined held up a tackily designed newspaper. “Toby Determined, Gravity Falls Gossiper. Do you really think this constitutes a wonder of the world?” 

“Your microphone's a turkey baster, Toby. Next question!” Stella called. 

A well-dressed woman stood. “Shandra Jimenez, a _real_ reporter. Your flyers promised free pizza with admission to this event. Is this true?” 

“That was a typo. Bye, everyone!” Stella announced, and before she was even done speaking she had dashed offstage, snatching up the admission fees from Cat and Dan as she went. 

Phil and Louise rejoined them at the admission stand. Several audience members grumbled as they left while the lumberjack Manly Dan, who had the most contrasting name ever next to the younger Dan, punched a post, which held the banner that read, “Wax Museum of Mystery Grand Re-opening!” 

“In your face!” he bellowed as the pole split in two. 

Phil leaned on the table. “Well, now I know for sure I was destined never to talk in front of a crowd.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Dan grinned. 

Cat nudged Phil’s shoulder with her own. “You guys are so weird.” 

“Obviously. Phil’s weird enough for the both of us.” Dan scoffed, pulling out his dollar. “You reckon we can get actual pizza with this much?” 

Stella walked back up to the table, wiping her forehead. “I think that went well.” She flipped through her stack of dollars. “Hot pumpkin pie! Look at all this cash! And I owe it all to one person.” Phil smiled expectantly. 

“This lass!” She nodded toward Wax Stella. 

“Hey!” Phil protested. 

Dan added, “If I’m gonna be calling you my Graunty, you better give Phil his credit!” 

Stella chuckled and tousled Phil’s already messy hair. “Alright, you too Philip.” 

Louise spoke up. “Mind if we get pizza with them?” 

Stella was already walking off. “Don’t get them killed and you’re fine.” Dan and Phil cheered and were already running off to Louise’s car, Cat right behind them. 

\-- 

The wax statue found a temporary home in the lounge, settled in front of the TV. Stella comically slung an arm around the waxy shoulders. 

“Well, I'm gonna use the john.” John? She’d definitely been in America for long enough. 

"You need anything?” She laughed at the glittery silence. 

“I love this lady! Don't you go nowhere.” She wagged her finger and walked off. 

\-- 

The cover of _Redwall_ was draped over Phil’s face, obstructing his nose and eyes but letting his gaping mouth snore quietly. Dan squinted at the sword-bearing mouse on the cover before shaking Phil’s shoulder. 

“Phil!” 

Phil woke with a confused snort. “Mmph? Have I gone blind?” 

Dan lifted the book off his face, shining his phone flashlight on him. 

Phil yelped as his hands flew to his eyes. “Now I’m definitely blind! Is that your phone light? What time is it?” 

“Half past midnight.” 

Phil sat up and rubbed his eyes. “How do you know that? 

“There’s literally a clock on your phone, Phil.” 

“Were you Internet browsing till 4am again?” 

“Well, I would be, but I think I heard Stella scream.” 

“What?!” 

Before either of them could speak, they heard it again: “No... No... Noooooo!” 

Dan and Phil dashed downstairs to find Stella, her arms curled in front of her. 

“Wax Stella! She’s been... m-murdered!” 

Dan gazed upon the scene. The glittery statue looked almost untouched, but there was a swift and clean incision right at its neck. Gone was the grinning face and maroon fez. 

The situation almost seemed funny. Almost. 

Phil’s eyes flicked between the decapitated Stella and his great aunt. She was shaking, visibly shaking, and pale. Her pupils were constricted, tied down by some force that made her keep staring at the wax corpse. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and she swiped at them. 

Phil dropped to his knees with a quiet sigh. “Why do people have to steal my ideas?” 

\-- 

The walls of the Mystery Shack glowed red, blue, and red again as the police car remained parked out front. 

Phil hadn’t moved as the police officers arrived. Dan remained quiet as Stella explained. 

“I got up to use the toilet, right? And when I come back, she’s headless!” 

Phil buried his face in his hands. “My expert handcrafting... besmirched. Besmirched!” he wailed. 

Still on his knees, Phil mournfully stroked the cut edge. Dan almost wanted to add a “Stop stroking it like that, Phil,” but he knew any banter would be lost on Phil’s ears. Dan came around behind him instead, knelt down, and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Who would do something like this?” Dan asked the officers, giving little pats to Phil's shoulder. 

“What's your opinion, Sheriff Blubs?” Deputy Durland, Sheriff Blubs’ pale, beanpole partner, asked. 

Blubs shrugged. “Look, we'd love to help you folks, but let's face the facts... this case is unsolvable.” He took a casual sip of his late night coffee. 

“What?!” The three cried. 

Stella was practically livid. “You take that back, Sheriff Blubs!” she shouted. 

“But there must be evidence, motives,” Dan protested, standing up. “You know, I could help if you want.” 

“He’s really good,” Phil added, who was still knelt on the carpet but was looking up now. “He figured out who was eating our tin cans!” 

“Yeah, yeah! Let the boy help. He's got a little brain up in his head,” Stella added. 

Dan didn’t move, but he looked at Stella for a moment. He had a brain. That was a start. 

“Phil can help too,” Dan added. He pulled Phil up by the arm and kept his eyes fixated on him until Phil nodded. 

Blubs elbowed Durland. Dan couldn’t see past his shiny sunglasses but he knew the look wasn’t one of sincerity. 

“Oooh! Would you look at what we got here! The little boys think they’re gonna solve a mystery with their fancy computer phones!" 

Phil screwed up his face. “We're capable!” he protested, clenching his fists. 

Blubs merely chuckled at Phil’s pout. “You two are adorable!” 

Phil looked ready to explode and even Dan took a cautious half step backwards. 

“ _Adorable?_ ” Phil growled through gritted teeth. 

Blubs gestured toward Wax Stella’s body. “Look, how about you leave the investigating to the grown-ups, okay?” 

Phil stepped forward, opening and closing his mouth like an angry fish. 

“I- I-” he stammered. 

Blubs’s walkie-talkie crackled, “Attention, all units. Steve is about to fit an entire cantaloupe in his mouth. Repeat, an entire cantaloupe!” Without another word, both of them dashed out. 

Dan clenched his fists. “That's it! Phil, you and I are going to find the jerk who did this, and make him pay. Then we'll see who's adorable.” His frown dissolved into a grimace and he sneezed squeakily. 

Stella laughed heartily for the first time that night. “I dunno, they might actually be right about you, Daniel! You sneeze like a kitten.” 

Dan turned to give Stella a death glare while Phil merely smiled. 

“It’s true,” Phil insisted. 

\-- 

The next morning found the boys surrounding the crime scene with police tape as Phil snapped a few photos. 

Dan glanced toward the bulletin board he had set up at 2am the night before. The sleep-deprivation showed, as it was just a messy array of photos, some tacked on top of each other, under a paper with “Suspects” scribbled on top. 

“There were a lot of unhappy customers at the unveiling. The murderer could have been anyone,” Dan muttered. 

Phil put his camera down. “We should start in here then.” 

Dan lifted the armchair cushion, saw nothing, and put it back. He was just about to check the hallway when Phil piped up. 

“Wait, are those footprints?” 

They dropped to their hands and knees, squinting at the shag carpet. Starting from Wax Stella’s neck, the prints made a few steps to the left. The prints resembled a vague type of adult shoe, but the left one had a lighter circle right in the middle of the print. Dan looked closer. The circle of carpet hadn’t been touched. 

“That's weird. They've got some kinda hole in them.” Phil said. 

Dan followed the faint prints. One step, two steps, three— 

“How did we miss this?” He gasped. 

At their feet, tucked behind the armchair, was an axe. 

\-- 

“What do you think?” Dan asked Louise. 

She took the axe and hummed in confusion. “Maybe somebody was carrying it yesterday. Do you remember anyone?” 

“Go to your mind palace!” Phil exclaimed, and reached over and began rhythmically tapping Dan’s head as if he were tapping a sticky sweet out of a jar. 

Dan leaned away from him. “Not helping, Phil. But who’d be carrying an axe?” 

Phil shook Dan’s arm. “Wait wait wait! The ironically named lumberjack!” 

“I swear Phil, you have a nickname for everybody,” Dan replied. “But you’re right, he was furious when he didn't get that free pizza.” 

“Furious enough… for murder!” Phil cried, shaking his fist. 

Louise handed the axe back to Phil. “Oh, you mean Manly Dan. Yeah, he hangs out at this biker joint in town.” 

Phil’s eyes twinkled as he looked down at the axe. “Then that's where we're going.” 

Louise grinned. “This is brilliant! You two are like, The Mystery Duo!” 

Dan grimaced like he’d bit into a spoiled sandwich. “Ugh, Louise, it’s bad enough hearing nicknames from Phil, just- just don’t call us that, okay?” 

Phil began leading Dan out of the gift shop. “Yeah Louise, me and _D-slice_ over here have some detective work to do!” 

Dan, always meaning to have the last word, exclaimed, “Dan and _I_ , Phil! Grammar and my actual name, you turnip!” 

Phil shoved Dan’s shoulder, and Dan laughed as his words melted in the air, the melody of his chuckles smothering any harshness. Grammar was a petty offense, and Phil’s shove remained a mildly annoyed response, and nothing more. They ran out of the gift shop, their shoes kicking up dust. 

Stella was outside at her car. With a groan, she lugged a brown coffin out of the trunk. 

“Hey, give me a hand with this coffin, will you?” she called to Dan and Phil, pulling again slightly. “I'm doing a memorial service for Wax Stella. Something small, but classy.” She tugged again and the edge of the coffin landed in the dirt. 

Dan adjusted his backpack. “Sorry Graunty Stella, but we got a big break in the case! We're heading to the town right now to interrogate the murderer.” 

Phil grabbed the axe poking out of Dan’s backpack, ignoring a “What the h-- You nearly decapitated me, Phil!” from Dan, and grinned as he exclaimed, “We have an axe!” He waved it and shouted, “ _fwoosh, grrr!_ ” 

Stella placed a finger on her chin. “Hm, it seems like the kind of thing that responsible parents wouldn't want you to do...” She grinned. “Good thing I'm an aunt. Avenge me, kids!” 

\-- 

If there was anything Dan liked about Gravity Falls, it was that every landmark intertwined perfectly with every part of the town. Like concrete vines, the shops mingled with each other in a bizarre sort of way. Dan could use the water tower as his North Star, and places like the pine forest as his Big Dipper, and it didn’t take long at all to find the correct street. It was even easier to see the “biker joint” Skull Fracture, out in broad daylight next to a grocery store and a cutesy bakery, for whatever reason. 

“This is the place,” Dan whispered. _Back to the wall, back to the wall_ ran through his head as they peeked around the corner and snuck a glance at the beefy security guard. 

“Got the fake IDs?” Dan asked, and Phil handed him his. 

Dan frowned at his. “‘Sir Winston?’ Why am I named Winston?” 

Phil shrugged with a sheepish grin as he replied, “I always wanted a friend called Winston.” They made their way up to the guard. 

Phil’s voice was surprisingly clear when he spoke, though it did carry a trace of fear. 

“Hi, w-we're here to interrogate Manly Dan the lumberjack for the murder of Wax Stella.” 

His face impassive, he held up his ID card as Dan did the same next to him. Security Guard squinted at the glittery plastic cards, decorated with macaroni. Phil shook his slightly and the google eyes on his wobbled around. His read “Thor, age 21” while Dan’s read “Sir Winston, age 45”. 

He nodded at the moustaches on the cards. “Seems good enough to me,” he said, and opened the door. 

\-- 

Skull Fracture thankfully did not live (or maybe it was die) up to its name, but it came pretty close. Men skulked around, sometimes hitting others, looking for trouble, or just standing there looking menacing. Dan and Phil sidled past most of them until they reached the bar. 

“Alright, let's just try to blend in, okay?” Dan said with a cautiously outstretched arm. He placed a hand on the axe handle and walked off. 

“You got it, Winston!” Phil called, doing finger guns. 

Blend in, blend in… Phil paced up and down the room. How much time had passed? 

On his fourth lap Phil froze. Fluttering between muddy boots and crumbs, like a beam down from heaven, was a crumpled five-dollar bill. 

Phil gasped and snatched it up, scurrying to the relative safety of the bar. How much could he get for $5? A t-shirt? Maybe. A devalued first-edition time machine ten billion years in the future? Hm, well that was an idea. Something weird on the Internet? He was bound to find answers there. 

_Or maybe a drink,_ he thought. He hopped onto a bar stool and waved to the bartender. 

“’Scuse me mate, you have geisha cocktails here? No alcohol, please.” 

The bartender raised his eyebrows. “Wow, that’s pretty— that’s pretty intense. You sure?” 

Phil sniffed pompously and nodded. He lowered his voice and curled his shoulders until he vaguely resembled a grizzled war veteran. 

“Trust me man, you haven’t seen me down sugar,” he growled, and the bartender shrugged. 

Out came a little pink drink in a round glass, garnished with a rose. 

“Yes!” Phil squealed. He glanced around at the skeptical glances. 

“What? I like my fruity drinks,” he scoffed, and began sipping the drink. 

\-- 

Dan found Manly Dan at some bizarre arm wrestling game, with a mechanical arm attached to a grinning torso and face. 

Dan adjusted his backpack and cleared his throat. “Manly Dan, just the guy I wanted to see. Where were you last night?” 

“Punchin’ the clock,” he growled. 

“You were at work.” 

“No, I was punchin' that clock!” he shouted with a point of his gloved hand. 

Dan glanced over at a smashed clock atop a bent pole, just outside the bar. 

“Half past midnight, the time of the murder...” he muttered, scratching his forehead. “So, I guess you've never seen _this_ before?” He asked, and held up the axe. 

Manly Dan continued wrestling with the machine. “Listen, kid! I wouldn't pick my teeth with that ax. It's left handed! I only use my right hand, the MANLY HAND!!” 

Dan gazed dismally at the pen that he was holding… with his left hand. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” he muttered to himself. Leave it to the fates to give him left-handedism. 

Realizing he was still in Manly Dan’s hulking presence, Dan scampered off. He stumbled to the bar, where he heard a glass slam on the table and various cheers. 

“That’s fifteen shots of soda! Flip, you’re a beast at this!” 

Phil dragged a hand across his mouth, almost vibrating with the sugar. 

“What can I say? I can down sugar.” 

Dan dashed up to him. “Phil, big break in the case! Wait, don’t you need to pay?” 

Phil hopped down from the bar stool. “Not when you’ve become the master of sugar shots!” They ran out of Skull Fracture. 

Once outside, Dan held up his notepad. 

“It's a left handed ax,” Dan said, showing Phil his list. “These are all our suspects. Manly Dan is right handed, that means all we have to do is find our left handed suspect and we've got our killer.” He put an X on the right handed column next to Manly Dan. 

Phil grinned, scanning the list. “Oh man, you’re on fire today!” he cried. 

“So are you. Now let's find that murderer!” 

Dan held up his fist with a grin and Phil bumped it with his. 

It was a contrived series of tests they did, from cop-out door to door surveys and throwing baseballs from across the street. Finally, they approached the bottom of the list. 

“Phil, there's only one person left on this list,” Dan said, holding up his notepad. 

Phil gasped. “Of course, it all adds up!” 

\-- 

Dan rubbed his arms against the night chill. He, Phil, and the cops were stationed outside of a seedy little building. On the sign: The Gravity Falls Gossiper. 

“You kids better be right about this, or you'll never get the end of it,” Blubs warned. 

Dan shivered. “Don’t worry officers, the evidence is irrefutable.” 

“I’m gonna get to use my matchstick!” Durland cried, waving his police baton. 

“You ready little fella?” Blubs asked. He and Durland whooped. 

“On 3!" Dan said. "1, 2…” 

The cops busted through the locked door, hollering wildly. 

“Nobody move! This is a raid!” Blubs shouted. 

Toby Determined let out a strangled shout as he toppled out of his desk chair. 

“What is this?” he yelped. 

“Well for starters, you just pulled a Dan,” Phil said with a light chuckle. 

Dan stormed up to him, brandishing the axe. “Toby Determined, you're under arrest for murder of the wax body of Stella Lester.” 

Phil folded his arms smugly. “You have the right to remain impressed with our awesome detective work.” 

He held up his hand for a high five. Dan complied, then both of their faces twisted in agony. 

“ _Ow_ , my hand!” 

“That hurt so much!” 

“Well, speaking of hands,” Dan groaned, nursing his like a wounded bird, “You were caught left-handed! You thought Mrs. Lester’s new attraction would be the story that saved your failing newspaper. But when the show was a flop, you decided to go out and make your own cheeky headline. We caught it all: the mic in your left hand and your shabby shoes, with a hole in them!” 

Phil crumpled up an edition of the Gossiper. “Toby Determined, you're yesterday's news.” 

“Boy, your little knees must be sore... from jumping to conclusions!” Toby yodeled, doing a jig. “I had nothing to do with that murder.” 

“I knew it! Wait, what?” Dan faltered. He turned to the cops. “Can’t you check the axe for fingerprints?” 

Blubs ran a duster over the handle. “None at all.” 

Durland guffawed. “Hey I got a headline for you!” he said to Toby, “’Kids waste everyone's time’!” 

The tiny building rang with their raucous laughter. Dan’s ears went bright red as he looked to the floor and Phil stood stiffly, nervously running a hand through his hair. 

Phil screwed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he mumbled. “We both are.” 

Without another word, Phil tugged on Dan’s arm and they ran out of the room. 

\-- 

Dan had been ceiling gazing for the past few minutes, beginning to make a Dan-shaped imprint in the shag carpet, when he heard a clutter of plastic. 

He sat up. Phil was stood before a pile of plastic ukuleles and a plastic pair of bongos. 

“What’s all this?” Dan asked. 

“You wanna play Ukulele Villain?” 

Dan narrowed his eyes. “You hate that game.” 

Phil sighed haughtily. “Well, I’m not gonna let you stare at the ceiling all night!” He protested. 

Dan nudged the plastic ukulele away from him with his foot and sighed, “I’m not in the mood.” 

Phil sat down next to him. “Come on! There’s lots of stuff we can play on here! Here listen, I'm getting better at 'Nontoxic'.” 

Phil scrunched up his face and pursed his lips before singing, “ _mMM baby can’t you see—_ “ 

“Stop, stop, you’re gonna make my ears bleed!” Dan cried, then laughed, waving his arms as if fending off a wasp while Phil giggled. 

Dan managed to stand and immediately sank into the armchair cushions. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. 

“I’m kinda too tired for video games anyway. But thanks, Phil.” 

Phil nodded. “Alright. I’m up to the attic. Good night.” 

“Good night.” 

Dan heard Phil’s footsteps fade as he went upstairs, blinking through the thick heaviness of his eyelids. 

_Geez, I could just melt into this sofa,_ Dan thought blearily. The ceiling flickered and lapsed into darkness. 

\-- 

Dan wasn’t aware of time passing, or what was going on, because at some point during the night he found himself staring at the ceiling again. Darkness stained his vision and suddenly, like a glitch in the dream’s camera, he saw the kitchen. 

“What about the banana?” It was him, literally talking to himself, swinging the cabinets open and shut. What was going on? 

Erratic screens of video games, various toys, and then he saw some secret agent-type guy with a bristly moustache and a suit. 

"THE WORLD IS ENDING!” he shouted into a phone. 

Dan again, sighing impatiently: “Dan, the Internet is suing you!” 

“Bananas?” He slurred, feeling his heavy limbs in the armchair. “What’re m’legs doin’?” His eyes drifted closed again. 

Was that a mountain range? No, it was Phil, gripping a fistful of forks. 

“Would you like some toast?” he droned. 

_No?_ Dan thought-spoke-something. The silverware clattered over the toaster in an echoing pierce of cutlery. 

He saw himself again. “Everybody hates you. No they love you. HATE YOU.” 

His whole body jerked and suddenly there was only the ticking of the clock and darkness. Cautiously, he felt around his body, then sat up in the armchair. Silver bars of sunlight leaked in through the curtain. 

“Thank god that’s over—” He groaned at his phone screen. “What do you mean it’s five am? Dang you, summer!” He flopped back onto the cushion and squinted at the dark ceiling. 

Dan refused to believe in prophetic dreams, but no amount of cheese before bed could make his dreams that wonky. 

That was when he heard the noises. 

\-- 

Phil nearly got a mouthful of his blanket when he awoke with a gasp. 

_AHH I’M ACTUALLY GONNA DIE IT’S A MURDERER,_ he thought frantically. 

He blinked. No other noises. 

_Nah, it was probably just a pan falling over in the kitchen._ He rolled over. Dan’s bed was still empty. 

_Or a Dan,_ he thought wryly. 

A second later and he was already thinking, _Oh man, what if it’s a serial killer who uses pans as their weapons? What would his name be, the Paninator? Something like that maybe? Okay, okay, calm thoughts… death beams, alien mothership, sheep… sheep impalers!_

He gripped his blanket with sweaty fists: _Oh no, it’s a_ cereal _killer! What if Dan gets kidnapped and I have to be Liam Neeson? I can’t be Liam Neeson!_

\-- 

_What if I get kidnapped and they call Phil and he has to be Liam Neeson? He can’t be Liam Neeson!_

Even in Dan’s terror the dream still lingered on the edges of his brainspace, like cobwebs. Cobwebs on the door, in the wax museum room— 

“Dan! Did you hear that noise too?!” 

Dan made a noise vaguely resembling a dying seal as the armchair rocked backward. Dan tumbled off the chair in a heap on the floor. Phil had run downstairs still in his Cookie Monster pajamas, holding his shoes. 

Dan sprang up, not even pausing to fix his hair. “Yeah, I think it came from the wax museum room!” 

They stared in the direction of the staircase. 

\-- 

Dan pointed his flashlight at the door, left slightly ajar. 

“We should make sure there’s no one inside,” Phil whispered. 

Dan nodded. “Yeah, especially since they look so real, we could mistake a statue for—" 

The beam fell upon a torso. “Hello,” it said. 

A hand wrapped around the flashlight before Dan could scream. It angled it upward until it focused on Stella’s face. 

“Just me, kids.” The light illuminated the bags under her eyes. 

“Graunty Stella? Are you okay? What’re you doing down here?” Phil asked. 

Stella nodded toward the light, shutting the door behind her. “Was about to ask you the same thing.” 

Dan put his arms at his sides to keep them from shaking. “W-we heard some noises. Like something crashing.” 

“That was just the service for Wax Stella. Go back to bed,” She sighed, and walked off. 

As soon as Stella was out of earshot, Dan pushed the door open with a creak. 

“Where are you going?” Phil hissed. 

Dan walked in, past the rows of wax figures seated in chairs, and went up to the coffin. Phil joined him and Dan sighed quietly. 

“Those cops were right about me,” He finally said. 

“Dan, we’ve come so far. We can’t give up now!” Phil urged, leaning closer to his friend and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“But I considered everything! The weapon, the motive, the clues… I’m no detective, Phil. I'm just a sorry excuse for one.” 

“Hey, I got scared too, Dan.” Phil managed a wry chuckle. “I even thought there was a serial killer down here and I’d have to save you and be like Liam Neeson. We both know I can’t be Liam Neeson.” 

Dan felt the corners of his mouth turn up. “Neither can I, Phil, don’t worry. I just wish we could’ve solved— huh, that’s weird. Wax Stella shoe has a hole in her shoe...” 

Phil looked closer at the coffin. “All the wax guys have that. It's where the pole thingy attaches to their stand dealy.” 

“Wait a minute, what has a hole on its shoe and no fingerprints? Oh man, I knew it! Those wax figures look so— When Louise first showed us, they looked so— I thought they were gonna come to life and— Phil! The murderers are—” 

“Standing right behind you,” a voice stated. 

They turned. The rows of figures were stirring as they rose from the seats, beaded eyes darkening with rage. 

Dan stared at the wax faces. “Wax Sherlock Holmes! Wax Shakespeare! Wax Mario?” 

“It’s-a me!” Mario said casually. 

“Congratulations, my two amateur sleuths,” Wax Holmes cackled, “You have unburied the truth, and now we're going to bury you. Bravo, Dan Howell and Phil Lester. You've discovered our little secret.” 

From his cape he produced Wax Stella’s head, with its glittery eyes and grinning head. 

He turned to the wax figures. “Applaud, everyone, applaud sarcastically. Uh, no, that sounds too sincere. Slow clap. There we go, nice and condescending.” 

“But... how is this possible? You're made of wax!” Dan cried, his eyes darting around the room, taking in all the homicidal wax statues. 

Phil drew in a breath. “Are you... magic?” A smile fluttered on his features. 

“Are we magic?” Holmes hooted as Phil’s smile fell. 

“He wants to know if we're magic!” His condescending grin was replaced with a snarl as he slammed his fist down on the coffin edge, leaning an inch in front of their faces. 

“We’re CURSED!” he screeched. 

“Cursed! Cursed!” The statues groaned. 

“Cursed to come to life whenever the moon is waxing,” Holmes said almost ruefully to Phil. “Your great aunt bought us many years ago at a garage sale. It was a charmed life for us cursed beings... That is, until Stella closed up shop. We've been waiting ten years to get our revenge on her for locking us away.” 

He turned back around. “But we got the wrong woman.” 

Dan could hardly believe his ears. “So you were trying to murder Graunty Stella for real?!” 

Suddenly Phil held his hands up in a cautionary gesture. His voice became grating and harsh as he began to speak: 

_“Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,_

 _Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel—_

 _

Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts 

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 

With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 

On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 

Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, 

And hear the sentence of your moved Phil’.”

_

Phil lowered his arms, bowing mockingly. 

“Uh, Phil, it’s ‘moved prince’.” Dan hissed. 

“Oh, no, it’s Phil,” Phil muttered, as the statues stood, glowering. 

“Did you seriously quote the thing I taught you? _Now?_ ” Dan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

Phil shrugged. “Well, Wax Shakespeare’s here,” He nodded to the playwright, who waved casually at them. 

Holmes surged forward. “Enough! Now that you know our secret, you must die!” 

Phil blanched, gasping, “Oh sh...ine a light, I really thought quoting ‘Romeo and Juliet’ would work!” 

Suddenly Holmes’s jaws stretched like putty and his eyes rolled back in his head, leaving slimy globs of white wax. All the other statues did the same. 

Dan swallowed a scream bubbling in his throat. He and Phil backed up, slowly being enclosed by the wax statues. 

“Can’t we cut them up or something?” Phil asked, shaking now. 

“Not unless they’re…” Dan’s eyes widened. “Phil, we can melt them!” 

Phil turned around and back again. “Careful, there’s a full coffee pot on the table behind you.” 

“Perfect-o,” Dan muttered, backing up to the table. He squeezed the handle, and in one fluid motion, sent the entire pot of hot coffee onto Wax Genghis Khan. 

Wax Genghis Khan bellowed, the white of his eyes running into his wax skin and beard, as his barrel chest began to cave in, slabs of wax dripping off in coagulating chunks. 

“There’s electric candles too,” Phil said, they both seized them. Their eyes glinting at the collective gasp from the wax statues, Dan and Phil wielded the candles like swords, slowly creeping forward. 

“Anyone move and we'll melt you into candles!” Dan shouted. 

“Decorative candles,” Phil added with a bat of his eyelashes, “You will burn soon, my sweets!” 

“So be it...” Holmes growled. “Attack!” 

Phil surged forward first. “I kicked a gnome in the face once, I can do it to you too!” he screamed. He wove between Wax Link and Wax Robin Hood, who ended up being decapitated with the wax Master Sword. 

Phil swung around, candle pointed and ready, at the sound of feet, and promptly cut Wax Donkey Kong’s hands off. The ape body ran, but Phil gasped as the severed limbs hovered forward. It made for its neck. Phil swung. 

He wasn’t fast enough; the arm wrapped around his throat and flexed. Phil gagged, his tongue wagging out of his gaping mouth. He desperately clawed at the arm but his nails only scratched at brown wax. 

Dan began to run up to Phil. Was all this just for some stupid bananas? 

Wait. “What about the banana?” 

Bananas. Him. Literally talking to himself. The cabinet. 

If Gravity Falls was making him go insane, he might as well stake his life on an idea equally absurd. 

“Phil!” He shouted desperately. “Bash his fingers on the door!” 

Stumbling around as the room began to blur, Phil’s right hand closed around the door handle. He opened, shut, opened, shut the door on the wax fingers. Finally, the choke hold loosened and Phil collapsed on the floor, wheezing. 

“The lengths Mario goes to…” Phil panted. 

He looked up and gasped. Holmes was running right for Dan. 

\-- 

“Dan! Watch out!” 

Dan had just cut off a wax leg when he heard Holmes behind him. 

With an impatient sigh, the detective jammed Wax Stella’s head onto the coat hanger. 

“Alright, let’s get this taken care of,” He growled. 

Taking a sword, he knocked the candle out of Dan’s hands with one clean swipe. It shattered on the floor, the electric bulb burnt out. 

“HEADS UP!” Phil called. 

A red hot poker sailed through the air and clattered at Dan’s feet. Snatching it up, he swung it towards Holmes’s body, but it collided with his sword in a clang of metal on metal. Dan swung again and again while Holmes continued to block his strikes as they slowly backed up toward the stairs. 

Dan made his way to the attic. There was the window seat where he had sat and read about zombies in the Journal, and now the glass cast a wide square of red onto the floor in the barely morning light. The crimson drowned Holmes’s eyes. 

“Once your family is out of the way, we'll rule the night once more!” Holmes yelled. 

_Family means you too, Dan. Graunty Stella actually wants to spend time with you. Don’t act like you’re off the hook here,_ Phil’s words came swimming back to him. 

Dan glanced at the window, then back at Holmes. He heard Phil shouting a floor below and realized with a sickening dread that this time, he was alone. Phil had fended off the gnomes for him with the leaf blower, and Louise drove them away from the Gobblewonker, but this time it was just him and a flimsy poker, which was cooling fast. It would be useless soon enough. But he could handle it, right? 

Right? 

Dan grit his teeth and threw the poker to the floor. 

“You’ll have to come and _get_ me first, Benedict Otterbatch!” Dan shouted. 

He dove forward, rolling between Holmes’s legs, under his billowing cape, and leapt out of the window. 

Dan’s feet thudded on the shingled ledge. The ground loomed below him and he briefly lost his breath for a moment. With no time to think, he madly dashed around the ledge and began running up the side of the roof, his shoes scraping on shingles. 

“Come back here, you brat!” It was Holmes, already out the window. 

Dan continued clawing his way up the ledge, grabbing at the steep inclined roof. Coming around to the front, he found himself staring up at the signs of the shack. 

_You just gotta find footholds,_ Phil had said. With a shaky breath, Dan placed his foot on the metal pole. And another, and another. 

With a grunt, he swung his entire body onto the sign edge. The giant plank was only about two feet across on the top. Dan gasped as he shimmied across the wood, trying to stay balanced. 

Holmes had caught up and swung wildly. Dan leapt backward, leaning out of the way of the swings even as Holmes dislodged the entire S on the “Shack” sign, sending it hurtling to the ground. 

Holmes stopped swinging, regarding Dan with his vacant eyes. “You really think you can outwit me, boy? I'm Sherlock bleeding Holmes!” 

Dan glanced up at the sign that read “Mystery”. It was a deadly move, but maybe… 

With every ounce of his strength, Dan launched himself up at the sign. Arms outstretched, his fingers barely clung to the edge of the sign above him. He was hyperventilating, kicking his legs. 

Holmes was howling beneath him, and Dan managed to press his feet to the sign and push himself up, catapulting his body over the edge like it was a pole vault. 

He fell for a good few seconds, his feet thudding on the shingled roof behind the sign, and he grimaced as the shockwave ran up his legs and rattled his kneecaps. He barely had time to look where he was going when the shingles underneath him began to slip. He scrabbled on the shingles as they gave way and Dan, now screaming, slid on his heels down the roof side. 

There was another window ledge to his right. Pedaling his legs, trying to find a grip on the roof, he managed to lean toward the ledge, fumbling at it with his hands. The sharpness dug into his palms and forearms and he groaned as his legs dangled uselessly beneath him. 

_Come on,_ he thought desperately. _Pull yourself up in one, two, three—_

His right toe found a mere inch of a shingle sticking out from the side. He kicked off of it, swung his leg up, and gripped the ledge with his heel. Now his back was dangling off the side, one leg and both arms up while he clawed his way forward. 

Painfully, slowly, but finally, he rolled himself onto the ledge and stood up on aching legs. Ready to cry with relief at the sturdiness beneath his feet, he pressed his back to the heavy brick chimney, on the verge of ejecting his lungs at his exertion. 

He peeked around the corner and only saw the shingles and the pennant flags waving in the breeze. No detectives with knock-off accents. 

Wincing at his stinging palms against the brick, he turned back around and locked eyes with Holmes’s waxy, empty ones. 

With a shout, Holmes kicked Dan right in the gut. He hurtled backward and slammed onto the shingles as they pressed into his back, the air leaving him as he sputtered. 

Holmes slowly drew his sword above his head. “Any last words?” 

Dan regained his breath, swiveling his eyes to the hills to the east. 

“Sure is beautiful, isn’t it?” 

“What?” Holmes gasped at the warm wax dripping over his face. Futilely, he looked to the east, where the sun was making its slow rise over Gravity Falls. 

“You know, letting me lead you outside? Probably not your sharpest decision,” Dan said with a smile. 

“Outsmarted by a child in short trousers?! No!” he howled, his prim moustache dissolving into a runny orange mess. 

“Fiddlesticks! Humbugs! Tiiter, total kerfuffle. Butter hallabaloo!” Holmes wailed. 

Dan arched his eyebrow. “Wow. When they said you were American made, they really weren’t kidding!” He dusted his hands and sneezed squeakily. 

Holmes let out a halting laugh. “You sneeze like a kitten! Those policemen were right, you're adorable!” The last of his wax head began running toward the edge. 

“Adorable!” The word echoed as he fell to the grass in a splatter of gray goop. 

Dan wrinkled his nose at the mess. “Ew,” he muttered. 

\-- 

Phil rubbed at the bruises on his arms and legs. With a labored breath, he limped to Wax Shakespeare and picked up the bodiless head. 

“Y’know any limericks?” Phil asked. 

“Uh… there once was a man from Nantucket—” 

“Nope!” And Phil tossed Shakespeare into the fireplace, as casually as a baseball. 

Phil looked up at the sound of a quiet groan. Dan walked in, covered in scrapes, clutching his stomach. 

“Dan! You’re okay!" Phil cried. "Here here, sit down, I got it.” Phil grabbed a chair from the strewn furniture all over the room. He dragged another to the coat rack, hopped on it, and retrieved Wax Stella's glittering head. 

“You solved the mystery after all,” Phil added with a smile. 

Dan paused, a slow smile blooming on his face. 

“Yeah,” he finally murmured. “I guess I did.” 

After explaining what happened, Phil shook his head. “I can’t believe you outsmarted Sherlock himself!” 

“Only because of your advice." Dan replied. "I had to do some serious climbing." 

Phil smiled bashfully. “So… credit to me? I deserve my credit, right?” 

Dan scoffed. “I still saved my own life, you hog. But yeah, I guess I gotta thank you for that at least.” He smiled. 

Of all times to walk in, Stella strolled into the room, dressed in her black suit and maroon fez for another day at work. 

“Hot Belgian waffles! What happened to my parlor?!” she exclaimed. Dan was rubbing his scraped forearm, which Phil was regarding with a worried grimace. 

“Your wax figures turned out to be evil, so we fought them to the death!” Phil said simply. 

“I nearly got myself killed fighting a knock-off Sherlock Holmes,” Dan added. 

Stella stared, then laughed heartily. “You kids and your imaginations!” she exclaimed with an eye roll, throwing her hands up in the air. 

Dan and Phil exchanged a withering glance. So much for that. 

“On the bright side, though, look what we found!” Dan cried, holding out the head. 

“My head!” Stella laughed, smiling wider than either of them had seen since the showcase. “I missed this lass!” Her grin matched the glittery wax head. 

The low wail of a siren startled them. Blubs and Durland pulled up with smug smiles. 

“Solved the case yet, boy?” Blubs jeered. “I'm so confident you're gonna say no that I'm gonna take a long, slow sip from my cup of coffee.” He raised the cup to his lips. 

Dan folded his arms. “Actually, the answer is yes.” 

“Wha—!” Blubs shouted, doing a spit take— right in Durland’s face. Who did it right back to him. In a flurry of shouts and expletives, they drove off. 

Stella pointed and crowed, “Ha! They got scalded!” 

She looked over and smiled at Dan and Phil. “Amazing work, kids! How about a hug?” 

Dan’s eyes widened. “Oh, I dunno—” 

Phil elbowed him. “Come on Dan, family hug!” 

Stella merely laughed and wrapped her arms around them. Dan blinked as he leaned into Stella’s shoulder, her laugh reverberating around them. 

He felt safe. 

Slowly, he drew his arms up around Stella. 

“Thanks, Graunty Stella,” he whispered. 

Stella patted his shoulder. “Let’s get you patched up, Daniel.” 

~~ 

Phil was knelt on the car seat, his face leaning out of the window, fanning himself in the humid parking lot of the Gravity Falls Pharmacy. 

Stella grinned. “Oh, this is perfect. Now, alternate routes, what do you do?” 

Dan glanced at the car. “He’s facing that way, so… I break the news to him from the other side?” 

Stella clapped Dan on the back. “Brilliant! Deliver a weird phrase with a punch! You’re a mighty fast learner, lad.” 

Dan smiled, then tiptoed to the car’s open windows. He grinned at Phil, who had his back to him and Stella, still fanning himself. 

“LLAMA JUMPER!!!” 

Phil screamed, falling backward onto the seat, his face reddening at Dan and Stella’s laughter, with Dan chanting “I got Phil! I got Phil!” 

“What the heck was that?” Phil groaned. 

Dan held up his other purchase with his bandaged arms. “No really, I got a llama jumper!” He waved the yellow sweater with a grin, pointing at the llama design. 

Phil widened his eyes, looking legitimately shocked. “Llamas outweigh your ‘only black clothes’ rule?” 

“Llamas outweigh everything, Phil.” He got into the car as Stella started it up. 

Dan leaned forward in his seat. “Oh, and the thing about fast learning? I learned this in ten minutes, listen listen: _Here's a llama_

 _There's a llama_

 _

And another little llama 

Fuzzy Llama 

Funny Llama 

Llama Llama duck—”

_

Stella groaned. “Do you want to crash this car, Daniel?” __

_“Llama llama_

 _

Cheesecake llama 

Tablet, brick, potato, llama 

Llama llama mushroom llama 

Llama llama duck 

I was once a tree house 

I lived in a cake 

But I never saw the way 

The orange slayed the rake 

I was only three years dead 

But it told a tale 

And now listen little child 

To the safety rail!”

_

Phil was curled on his seat like he was being stabbed. “Dan, stop, you’re making our ears bleed.” 

Dan laughed maniacally. “IT’S THE ALPACALYPSE!” he crowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LGN ZKR OLDP QHHVRQ LV. GDQ MXVW PHQWLRQHG KLP LQ "L FDQ'W OLYH ZLWKRXW PB SKRQH", WKDW'V ZKHUH WKH MRNH FRPHV IURP.


	4. All's Fair in Phil and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY PINOF 8! Also, HOLY CRAP, 101 HITS?! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!  
>  **Warning for manipulative language and possible social anxiety triggering dialogue from Doctor Daisy.**  
>  This took way longer than anticipated because I rewrote so many scenes that I essentially had to redo the whole thing. I also replaced Gideon with Doctor Daisy because I wanted to give her (yes, her! No, there's no forced straight romance between her and Phil) a new character arc. And because the name "Doctor Daisy" references a certain video of theirs…  
> I also changed the title from "The Hand that Rocks the Mabel" because it references the film "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle", which wouldn't work with Phil's name. The new title comes from the phrase "all's fair in love in war", because the root word "Phil" is Greek for "to love" (and rather ironically, the name "Philip" means "lover of horses, which Phil in real life is certainly not a fan (phan?) of). Just a fun fact :)  
> I don't know when I can post again because I only got to write these four chapters over the summer, and school is pretty stressful at the moment. Hopefully soon, but this is just a heads-up.  
> Once again, thank you so much for all the hits, kudos, comments, and for reading!

“For tonight's final illusion, we have the incredible ‘Sack of Mystery.’ When you put your money in, it mysteriously disappears!” 

The motley crowd _oohed_ and dropped various dollars in the burlap sack, walking off and chatting. Stella patted the sack and smiled. 

\-- 

For such an old model, the television worked surprisingly well. The Buffy rerun that Dan, Phil and Louise were watching cut for a commercial break. Onscreen, a pair of hands opened, sending a sleek group of doves into the air. 

“That’s weird,” Louise said. “I’ve never seen this advert before.” 

Dan and Phil peered closer at the screen, which now showed a peaceful mountain range. 

“Are you completely miserable?” A voiceover asked. 

The actor onscreen picked his tear-sodden face up from his arms, only to shout, “YES!” 

“When a case of the saddies knocks ya down, you gotta see the brightest face in town! Doctor Daisy!” The silhouette of a broad-shouldered person with their hands on their hips illuminated with the words, “DOCTOR DAISY”, under a question mark. 

“Doctor Daisy?” Dan asked. 

“Not just bright in demeanor, she’s one of the brightest minds in Gravity Falls! And don't waste your time with other so-called ‘woman of mystery’.” The commercial overlaid a disgruntled Stella emerging from the outhouse, capturing a cringe-worthy shot of her half-closed lids and bent pose, shaking a stray piece of toilet paper from her shoe. The word “FRAUD” was stamped over the awkward image. 

“Learn all about it tonight, at Doctor Daisy’s Tent of Telepathy.” The commercial featured an image of a tent with a little daisy symbol on top, then cut to the obligatory disclaimer scroll: 

“ _VoidwhereprohibitednoCOD'sacceptedtheletter‘p’inthewordpsychicissilentandusedforentertainmentpurposesonlyifunsatisfiedpleasereturntheunusedportionforafullrefundsideeffectsmayincludebutarenotlimitedtoprosperitywadsofcashfunatparties6.2%APRnomoneydown!Psychicreadingsmaycauseawarmingsensationintheabdomenifpainpersistsconsultyourphysicistimmediately.CarlaI'vealwayslovedyoubutneverhadthegutstosayit._ ” 

Dan abruptly clicked the television off. “Wow, that was a trip,” he commented. 

Phil sprang up. “A trip we need to take… to the Tent of Telepathy!” He grinned. “Smooth seg!” 

“I don’t think that counts as a smooth segue if you say it right after,” Louise cut in. 

“And it’s a trip you definitely _don’t_ need to take,” Stella stormed into the room, nudged her eyepatch away from her black spectacles, and unbuttoned her blazer. “Ever since that monster Daisy rolled into town, I've had nothin' but trouble.” 

She hung her suit on the coatrack and loosened her bowtie. “She’s stolen my parking spot with her giant bus _three_ times, for god’s sake!” 

“Well, is she really psychic?” Phil asked. “I would know, my grandma’s psychic.” 

Dan turned to look at him. “You have a psychic grandma?” he asked, sounding more dumbfounded than doubtful. 

Phil shrugged. “Well, she’d have these dreams where the milk would run out and then it would run out, I mean it—” 

Stella interjected with, “You're forbidden from patronizing the competition. No one that lives under my roof is allowed under that Daisy’s roof!” 

Phil’s nose wrinkled as he frowned indignantly. “Why, what’s wrong with seeing her show? Besides, do tents even have roofs?” 

Dan nodded, his arms folded. “Y’can’t argue with that logic.” 

There was a moment of silence, and Dan coughed awkwardly and added, “Seriously though, you really can’t, ‘cause, y’know, the logic… you— there is none, so you can’t argue with something that doesn’t exi— I should just stop talking.” 

\-- 

Fleecy clouds the color of mangoes hung above the Tent of Telepathy, affixed against a sky of gold and white. An older gentleman in a suit and stethoscope waved a burlap sack with a daisy design at the steady stream of attendees. 

“Step right up there, folks. Put your money in Daisy’s psychic sack.” He called. The motley crowd _oohed_ and tossed dozens of dollars his way. Phil cocked his head at their wonderstruck faces, then ran his sleeve over his forehead again. He had insisted on putting on another layer before leaving, and the only thing his parents had left him with was a ridiculous purple fleece. 

Dan, who was walking next to him, turned to him. “Phil, it’s like, 30 degrees out here. What on earth are you wearing?” 

Phil snapped his fingers. “My big surprise! And thank you for the cue, seriously, my eyeballs are about to melt.” He unzipped the fleece, revealing a white t-shirt that read, “I’m with Phil!” and an arrow pointing up at his face. 

“Check it out! Phil Co. Enterprises official merchandise!” Phil exclaimed. 

Waving off Dan’s confused expression, Phil continued, “Hey, at least it’s always accurate, right? Not like those ones that point to the right. You could be calling a tree stupid!” 

“Only if you’re wearing it, genius.” Dan replied with a grin. 

Phil wagged his finger. “ _Customization_ , Dan. Personalized names! See, I could create my own clothing line!” 

The inside of the tent was strung with huge floodlights on poles. Dan and Phil were herded inside and seated on wooden benches. 

Phil glanced around, squinting at the contented expressions. A rustic ambiance, a theme of mystery… these guests were the same ones that milled about the Mystery Shack. And if Phil was right, this Daisy kid was about to deliver the same hacks. 

Suddenly the lights dimmed. 

“It's starting! It's starting!” Phil cried. The various stage lights swept the tent floor. Time to see what this monster really looked like. 

The light shone on the baby blue curtains, which now illuminated the same silhouette from the commercial. 

Then the curtains parted, and a little girl emerged with her arms full of doves. Phil couldn’t stop staring at her hair, with the bangs perfectly sculpted into a side-swept fringe. She wore a prim black shirt with the collar tucked back, a stethoscope that was draped over her neck, and an eyepatch over her left eye. It was attached to a flimsy string that looked like it could snap with the slightest tug. 

“Hello America!” Daisy shook Phil out of his thoughts with a voice that vaguely resembled Phil’s impersonation of an American accent. 

“My name’s Doctor Daisy!” The crowd cheered as the doves circled overhead. 

“That's Graunty Stella’s mortal enemy?” Dan asked next to him. 

“But she's so… wittle!” Phil said. Was any other inflection appropriate? He blinked and blinked again at the girl onstage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is such a gift to have you here tonight!” Daisy intoned with clasped hands. “...Such a gift. I have a _vision_. I predict that you will soon all say, ‘aww’.” There was a pause, and then suddenly Daisy graced the audience with a sunshiny smile so wide her tongue peeked out of her mouth, and of course the crowd awwed. 

“My saddies case is cured!” A voice called out. 

“She’s such a ray of sunshine, we must protect her!” Another audience member shouted. 

“It came true,” Phil breathed. It came true. _She_ made it true. 

Dan folded his arms and scoffed. 

Suddenly Daisy gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. She cried, “Oh no, dearie me, I’m afraid we’ve still got some people that are ill! And this isn’t the ordinary illness either. These are sneaky sicknesses! The kinds with no symptoms, until… blammo!” 

The audience gave a gasp of horror, whispering frantically. 

Daisy smiled and said, “Not to fear, for I have the exact treatments!” She leaned forward onstage, gesturing to a shriveled old woman. 

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you’re suffering from a severe case of… parental rage. You wish your son would call you more, is that right?” he said. 

The old woman shook her fist. “I'm leaving everything to my cats!” She screeched, prompting another screech from the gray cat on her lap. 

“And you! You’re Doctor Daisy deficit!” Daisy cried, so dramatically if was as if she was announcing the apocalypse was upon them. Sheriff Blubs grinned, his arms loaded with Daisy merchandise. 

“Oh, what gave it away?” Blubs asked bashfully. 

“I sense that you've been here before, but you’re still lacking in vitamin D,” Daisy said gravely. “That is, vitamin _me._ I advise you immediately purchase more of my t-shirts and mugs.” 

She had _merch_ too? Phil stared at her, which prompted Daisy to look right in his and Dan’s direction. 

All at once, Dan looked positively green in the face. He waved his hands desperately and mouthed “ _Nonononono—_ ” 

Daisy stroked her chin. “Hm, this is a curious case. But I believe we have… a newcomer.” 

Dan squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Ah, I assume your name is… Phil, correct?” 

Dan relaxed and glanced at Phil. Daisy was grinning at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Phil cracked a smile, pumping his arm. 

“Gee, how’d she figure that one out?” He asked loudly, painfully aware of his homemade shirt. In retrospect it seemed clever, but now he definitely couldn’t hide his reddened face. 

“Any Phil I know has an impeccable immune system,” Daisy added. Phil was tempted to look away to avoid the embarrassment. 

But then Daisy nodded reassuringly, her smile still bright, and Phil relaxed a fraction. Daisy wasn’t a threat, she just wanted Phil to join in, didn’t he? Phil took greater notice of the Doctor’s snub nose, smattering of light freckles, and her baby teeth, and it hit him again that Daisy was just a kid, clearly younger than him and Dan. The way she carried herself onstage, it made him a little wistful. 

So why did Stella hate her so much? 

Phil kept his gaze fixated on Daisy as she finally finished her routine, claiming that Toby Determined was a day away from giving up on everything. Toby merely sighed in response. 

“And thanks for visiting me!” Daisy cried. 

The stage burst with confetti as a neon sign with “DAISY” printed hung from the ceiling. 

The room rang with applause, and Phil clapped until his palms stung with a huge grin. 

Daisy mopped her brow and took a swig of water. “Thank you! You people are the real miracles!” 

“Whoo! Yeah!” Phil cheered, ignoring Dan’s look of confusion next to him. 

Dan and Phil trailed after the stream of people leaving the tent. Dan swatted away a mosquito, speaking over the drone of cicadas and crickets. 

“Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stella!” He whistled. 

“Oh, come on,” Phil protested. First Stella, now Dan was skeptical? 

“She’s like, what, ten?” Phil added. “And did you see her hair? It was like, whoosh!” Phil did a saucy hair flip with his bangs. 

Dan snickered. “You're too easily impressed.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil scoffed. “Or I’m the only one who’s actually giving her a break. It was a cute show. What’s she trying to prove here?” 

They walked off. Behind them, Daisy poked her head out of the tent flap and narrowed her eyes. 

\-- 

Phil wobbled the flashlight around his face, pulling what he hoped was sinister expression. 

“...and along the same lines, I actually left the house yesterday and got this photo of a log with my face on it!” Dan exclaimed. On the laptop in front of him, he clicked out of their script and pulled up a file. The whorls and rings blended together perfectly into a pair of eyes, a nose, and the vague shape of Dan’s hair. 

“Wow, it even has your hair!” Phil cried. “It’s the Dan log. We should take a pilgrimage and go visit.” 

“And this has been spooky happenings, with Dan.” 

“And Phil!” Phil added. 

They both revolved the lights around their faces and sang, “DODODOODOO-DODODOODOO!” 

The door swung open and Stella stormed in. “ _What_ are you two doing sitting in the bath screaming your heads off?” 

“Recording the extremely professional Super Amazing Project, of course,” Dan replied smoothly. Both boys climbed out of the bathtub while Phil shut off the camera. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Phil was already out and running to the stairs. “I’ll get it!” he called, turning to Stella. She nodded tersely and grunted in response. 

“What,” Phil laughed. “You hate me now because I sat in the bathtub?” 

Another “hmm” from Stella. He looked to Dan. Already retreating to the attic with the camera and scripts. 

Maybe he didn’t mean to, but Phil stomped a little too loudly downstairs and swung open the door. His gaze lowered until it settled on Doctor Daisy’s tiny form. 

“Hey there,” Daisy greeted him. 

Phil bit back his anger and contorted his face into a smile. 

_Can it, Phil_ , he thought to himself. 

“Heya Doc!” He said breezily, then followed up with, “Great job last night. Glad to know I’m not vitamin D deficit.” 

Daisy chuckled nervously. “Yeah, thanks. Now, I know we haven't formally met, but after yesterday's performance, I really owe it to ya for cinching that last one.” 

“Oh, you mean the—” he pumped his arm with a pained grin, letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah, thanks, but Dan’s the real actor between the two of us.” 

“That’s his name, is it?” Daisy clucked her tongue, shaking her head as she said, “Real… uncooperative guy, huh?” 

Phil paused. Daisy stared up at him, expectant. Unlike Stella, Daisy seemed to keep her eyepatch on at all times, and she hastily nudged it up higher on her face. 

“ _Who’s at the door?_ ” 

Stella’s voice, raspy and reedy, hit Phil’s eardrums, and he clenched his fists as he turned back toward the staircase. 

“ _No one_ , Graunty Stella!” He shouted, then turned back to Daisy with a furrowed brow and grit teeth. 

“Uncooperative?” Phil finally said. Dan. Already retreating to the attic with the camera and scripts. 

Phil exhaled through his nostrils. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

Daisy smiled sympathetically. “Hit a nerve, huh? Aw, I’m sorry there, Phil. Why don’t we step away for a little? Can I treat you to something? After all, I owe it to the guy who saved my show!” 

Phil stepped onto the porch. “I’d love to,” He responded with a smile. 

\-- 

Dan flipped to the page again, the one that had been bugging him all week. He looked closer at the geometric lines. All he knew was that it was part of a triangle. Was it a map? A blueprint? 

“Hey Dan.” 

Dan closed the Journal and shifted his position, burrowed in his armchair crease. Phil walked in, holding a familiar looking bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Dan grinned wryly. “There you are. You’re gone all afternoon and you don’t even call me a nickname when you return? That’s new.” 

“Is it?” Phil replied coolly, stepping into the lounge. “What’cha readin’ there?” 

“Journal 3, as always. I got to read it at the supermarket ‘cause Graunty Stella had to buy stuff for dinner.” Dan said. 

Phil didn’t respond, hardly seeming up for conversation. Dan held off on showing him the triangle blueprint page and instead looked at Phil again. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Philly? Didja _miss_ me?” He crooned. 

“ _Hardly,_ ” Phil snapped. 

Dan shrank back. Whoa. This was definitely new. 

Phil held up the bottle and Dan realized why it looked so familiar. 

“I missed _this_ more.” Phil said with a smirk. 

Dan sat up, now fully alert. “R-Ribena?! How’d you get this?” 

“Just hanging out with my pal Doctor Daisy,” Phil hummed. “Only the purveyor of the most delicious stuff ever.” He was waving the blackcurrant flavored drink in Dan’s face. 

Dan frowned, pushing the bottle away. “Phil, I don't trust anyone who can literally brainwash people with their smile.” 

“Oh, leave her alone! It beats sitting at home with _Graunty Stella_ all day.” He spat out the name as if it was barbed wire on his tongue. 

Dan nodded toward the bottle, retorting, “Well, what if that’s out of date? Or poisoned? You could be projectile vomiting by dinnertime!” 

“Well for now, that was the most delicious possibly poisoned Ribena I’ve had in a long time,” Phil shot back. “And _I’m_ gonna guess you don’t want any.” He stormed out of the lounge. 

\-- 

“Whoa, the view from your family's factory is nuts! Good thing we both brought our—” 

“Opera glasses!” Phil and Daisy sang in unison, brandishing the ornate glasses. 

The view was grand and the seating was surprisingly comfy, a gently sloping roof with a flat ledge on top to sit and let Phil’s legs dangle above the trees. It was nearing 6pm now, but the summer sun continued to wave at them above the tallest pine trees. 

Phil grinned as he brought his opera glasses to his face. “These look so weird, they look like they’re from an alternate dimension!” 

Daisy nodded pointedly and asked, “Tell me, Phil. What else is weird about ‘em?” 

Phil glanced at Daisy, who looked more earnest than offended. At least, that’s what he hoped. 

“I dunno, don’t you think they could be used by some weird alien civilization for glasses?” 

Phil gazed upward, a finger on his chin as if he was pondering something. “Maybe their eyes are shrunken and they read newspapers with cola-flavored ink?” 

He turned back to Daisy and pointed as he continued, “But _only_ the vowels, you could lick the pages with your breakfast, like, ‘Ooh, Susan, have you heard of the cat that flew out of the seventh floor? The headline… tastes, er, delicious…’” 

Phil’s voice tapered off as he slowly placed his hands in his lap. He pressed his lips together and kept his gaze fixated on Main Street below them. There was no backing out of that one. Nut-case Phil, weirdo kid of the century. He braced himself for the mocking reply. 

Instead, he heard a breezy laugh. “That’s great, Phil!” 

Phil blinked hard and turned to Daisy. 

“Really?” He asked. 

Daisy nodded, her smile so assuring Phil wondered if it was even possible. Then Daisy said it. 

“You sound a bit nervous there. Did I hit a nerve?” 

“No, I—” Phil began, then stopped. This was Daisy, wasn’t it? Stella’s arch-enemy? 

Phil twined his fingers in his lap as he mumbled, “No, not that, I just worry I come off as weird, that’s all.” He waited expectantly. 

Daisy hummed. “Kinda like this town, huh?” 

“What?” Phil asked, turning back to her. 

“I’m sure you’re noticing strange happenings around here, right? A bit more than strange, maybe even a bit… paranormal?” 

Since Dan had found the Journal, Phil had occasionally glanced at it over breakfast or right before bed. The pages were intriguing, but mostly Phil liked skimming the notes in the margins about the woodland animals and plants of Gravity Falls. Apparently, hippo milk was pink, and dog spit was cleaner than human spit. But Dan said nothing about keeping the Journal a secret, just not to trust anyone. 

Phil nodded. “Actually, yeah. Dan and I saw some gnomes, and last week we fought evil wax statues come to life. Now I’m just waiting for the aliens to land, to be honest.” 

At the mention of the gnomes, Phil’s thoughts wandered back to that horror movie he was planning to make. Dan and Phil had only managed to shoot a few minutes’ worth of footage so far, but the gnomes were right. Phil still needed that female supporting character. She would start off unassuming, but by the end would become a primary character next to the two heroes, proving she could hold her own. Maybe he could ask… 

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Daisy was already talking. 

“I’ve seen those too! Oh, this is grand. How’d you find all those things?” 

“Well, Dan found out first…” Phil started, and trailed off. For now, the Journal could be kept secret. That’d be best. 

“Dan usually discovers the stuff. I tag along,” Phil said instead. “But if we’re being real, he’s more like my glamorous assistant.” He cupped a hand around his mouth and whispered, “Just don’t tell him that.” 

Daisy narrowed her eyes again. “You sure do talk about Dan a bunch,” she muttered, and tugged on the string of her eyepatch. 

Phil hunched his shoulders forward slightly, chewing on his bottom lip. Was that supposed to mean anything? 

“I guess,” Phil finally mumbled with a shrug. 

Seeming to sense Phil’s embarrassment, which only made him feel even worse, Daisy quickly said, “Tell you what, how ‘bout I treat ya to dinner? We can talk more there. I’d _love_ to hear about the stuff you’ve seen.” 

Phil eyed Greasy’s Diner down on Main Street. “Waffles for dinner?” He brightened, turning to Daisy. “That sounds ace!” 

Daisy shook her head. “No, like real dinner. I know this great place right outside of town. We can leave in about a half hour. I’ll pay.” 

“Shouldn’t I ask Graunty Stella first? And dinner’s a lot more fun with Dan, he makes the ultimate food jokes!” 

At the name “Dan”, Daisy propped her chin on her fist, frowning almost impatiently. Rather than ask more about his “food jokes”, Daisy turned to Phil. 

“Well, I dunno Phil, you sure seemed fine telling Stella there was ‘no one’ at the door. Weren’t you the one who left her and Dan to come hang with me?” 

Phil blinked, his eyes wide. He met Daisy’s eyes and a steely gaze greeted him, eyes narrowed expectantly. 

“I guess,” Phil finally sighed. 

Daisy nodded emphatically. “Exactly. Why don’t we get going? That is, if you want to, of course.” 

Phil handed Daisy his pair of shrunken-eye alien glasses. He quickly raked his fingers through his hair. 

Then he flashed Daisy a smile. “I’d love to,” He said. 

\-- 

Dan had been nibbling on the edge of his fork for so long he began to taste metal in place of his food. He absentmindedly sipped his water. Phil’s Ribena ended up being fine, and now every drink literally paled in comparison to a tall glass of the wine-red juice. He shoveled more broccoli into his mouth. 

“No jokes today?” Stella mused. 

Dan gave up on trying to act fine and let his chin drop to the table, sighing, “I can’t figure out why Phil’s mad at me.” 

Stella nodded in agreement and replied, “I think the kid’s mad at me, too. Somethin’ must be bothering him.” 

Dan swiveled his eyes so he was looking up at Stella, his right cheek pressed to the tabletop. “I mean, who would disappear all day and skip dinner? What’s he avoiding me for?” 

Stella wagged her spoon at him and said, “I see the issue. You know, you two boys have something in common.” 

Dan quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, how’d you figure that out?” He asked. 

Stella merely shook her head in amusement, not her usual annoyance at Dan’s sardonic remarks. 

“You’ll waffle on and on, but have you ever sat down and just talked?” Stella asked. 

Dan rolled his eyes, his face still on the table. 

Stella sighed with a knowing air. “Cheeky little bugger,” she smirked. 

Dan sat up and crossed his arms, muttering, “Alright, Graunty Stella, I’ll listen.” 

“Nothing to listen to. You two ever really talked before? Y’know, clear away the Internet, have a heart to heart without your anger in the way?” Stella eyed him hard. 

Dan was suddenly very interested in his food again. He crammed a forkful of boiled potatoes in his mouth, cringing at how cold they had gotten. There was something nice and simple about how the grocer pronounced them earlier today in his American accent: “ _puh-tay-dohs_ , you can boil ‘em, taste great that way.” Dan chewed the cold starchy potatoes and took another swig of water. 

Dan winced and muttered, “I— I dunno, doesn’t that seem a little… weird?” 

“Right up Philip’s alley!” Stella joked, and Dan cracked a shy smile. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan asked after a pause. 

Stella’s smile faded and she studied the ridges in the oak tabletop. 

“Well,” she finally said, “I just want to look out for you. I’m speaking from experience.” 

Dan nodded silently, deciding not to say anything else. 

He watched as Stella lifted up the spoon in the bowl of potatoes. Then she placed a heap right in the center of Dan’s plate. 

“Finish your dinner, Daniel. I gotta be the responsible caretaker and all.” Stella ordered. 

Dan blinked up at her, then let out a breathy laugh. “Okay,” He agreed, picking up his fork. “And Graunty Stella? Thanks.” 

\-- 

Daisy daintily patted her mouth with her napkin, placing her gleaming fork down on an empty plate littered with chicken bones and stray peas. 

Phil was full. The lobster had been delicious, and now Phil hungered for some video games with Dan. 

“I can't believe they let us bring a horse in here!” Phil exclaimed, casting a slightly nervous glance at it. Daisy had invited Phil to ride it, but there was no way he could explain his distrust towards horses to her, no matter how insistent Daisy was about Phil’s weirdness. Phil ended up walking the whole way there with Daisy on her horse. 

“Well, people have a hard time saying _no_ to me,” Daisy smirked, then leaned back and kicked her feet up on the pristine white tablecloth. The eyepatch slid on her brow and she nudged it back into place. 

Their waiter walked over and refilled his glass. A tall wiry guy with a bristly moustache, Phil briefly wondered if he slicked his hair back with oil. Maybe that would work. Dan already went to the daily trouble of straightening his hair every morning. 

“Ah, Mademoiselle Daisy! Ze feet on ze table! An excellent choice!” The waiter beamed. 

“Jean Luc, what did we discuss about eye contact?” Daisy asked. 

“Yes, yes, very good!” Jean Luc replied immediately, snapping his gaze to the ceiling and backing away. 

“So what was up earlier?” Daisy asked. “You thought my horse was dirty?” 

“No!” Phil cried, shaking his head. “I— I just prefer to walk.” 

“Yeah?” 

Yeah, not trusting horses. Stuff like that was what he could only confide in Dan with. Dan always stopped laughing and teasing when he saw Phil was being serious. Phil felt his stomach twist as his mind flashed back to Dan in the lounge. He looked back up at Daisy and managed a grin. 

“ _Oh là là,_ ” Phil said. “That dinner was the best.” 

Daisy sat up and asked, “Oh! _Vous-parlez français?_ ” 

“Um, _je mange les petits enfants. Est-ce qu’il y a un salle de jeu_? That’s the only thing I remember from French class.” 

“…You have no idea what you just said, do you?” Daisy had her eyebrows raised, a laugh bubbling in her cheeks. 

Phil scrunched up his nose and frowned. “Look, I—” 

_Can it, Phil._

Phil closed his eyes and sighed, his stomach churning. “I um, I feel kinda sick. I think it’d be better if I just go home now. And Dan’s bound to be _dying_ of boredom without me.” He cracked a smile. 

“I wouldn’t say that, Phil. Dan’s managed just fine on his own all day today.” 

Phil sipped his water from his wine glass and felt his stomach twist even more nervously. 

“I know,” Phil sighed. 

Daisy quirked an eyebrow. “I gotta ask, Phil, isn’t Dan a bother? From what you’re telling me, he’s kinda just a big blah. Why do you even bother wasting your time catering to his wacko adventures?” 

Phil just shrugged. Was there a reason? Had he just overlooked Dan’s constant jabs? 

“Tone down the bants!” They had joked. But now that Daisy mentioned it, was it really banter at all? 

Phil stood. 

“I’m gonna go now. I appreciate the dinner, really.” 

“Let me at least walk you home,” Daisy implored. 

Phil studied Daisy’s round face, snub nose, twinkling eyes. 

“No, I got it,” Phil said firmly. “Besides, I need to talk to Graunty Stella about something.” 

Daisy leaned forward. “Is it about me?” She asked. 

“No,” Phil lied. 

\-- 

Dan peeled off his rubber gloves, tossing them in the trash. Curls of steam wafted from the sink as Stella placed the last mug into the drying rack. 

“And that’s how you vanquish grease stains,” Stella said. 

“Are things _always_ this exciting at your age?” Dan asked, and this time Stella let out a light chuckle. 

“Very funny, Daniel,” she muttered as Dan smiled. 

A slam rang through the house and Phil’s thin-shouldered frame glared from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Philip!” Stella said sharply. “This house needs to last a lifetime, don’t kill the doorframe! Where in heavens were you?”

He stomped inside and dropped down on a chair, glowering. 

“Graunty Stella, why do you hate Doctor Daisy?” 

Stella responded, “Hang on. Aren’t you gonna eat something?” 

“Already ate,” Phil muttered darkly. “Daisy paid for the food. But I guess that’s awful too, huh?” 

“Phil, seriously, I really don’t think she’s trustworthy,” Dan cut in. “She just gives off this weird… vibe. Don’t you feel threatened by her?” 

“It’s not like she’s a secret lizard man who gives out lollipops to children, she _is_ a children! Er, child! Whatever!” Phil protested. “Sh-she’s a nice kid, she means well, I know it!” 

“Philip, you don’t know anything about her,” Stella said. “It’s not just the Mystery Shack she’s after. It’s—” 

Phil’s voice was thin and shrill, as if he were trying to convince himself. 

“That’s just ‘cause you’ve never spent time with her! She paid for the dinner! She got me British snacks! Do you _know_ how much I’ve missed Ribena?” He protested.

Dan scoffed, but didn’t meet Phil’s eyes. 

“Graunty Stella, what am I doing wrong? I sat in the bath and you got mad at me, I offered to answer the door and you got mad at me, I say _anything_ and Dan won’t shut up about how dumb it is!” Phil yelled. 

Dan looked up then and saw Phil’s face, reddened and twisted with pain. 

“I— I already know I’m— _clumsy_ , and _dumb_ and a complete _weirdo!_ Daisy doesn’t care, she gets it!” 

Suddenly Phil’s voice broke and he dropped his arms at his sides. He sighed and started walking toward the staircase. 

“Where are you going?” Stella called. 

“I’m going to my room, now you can’t _send_ me up there!” Phil retorted. 

Stella waved him off with a skeptical, “What, like parents actually still do that?” 

No response. Dan turned to Stella. 

“Should— should I do something?” Dan asked. 

“I dunno, you tell me. Phil clearly isn’t gonna listen to me, right?” Stella asked. 

Dan managed a weak smile. “Does that mean I should be the one to go and… talk to him?” 

Stella smiled back. “Bingo.” 

\-- 

Unfortunately, Dan’s prediction didn’t exactly ring true. 

He walked into the attic and frowned. “Uh-oh. Phil…” 

“Phil’s not here,” mumbled Phil’s blanket. “He’s in the duvet cave.” 

Dan hopped onto his own bed, against the opposite wall, and crossed his legs. 

“Are you gonna come _out_ of the duvet cave?” He asked, with a hopeful smile. 

The blue and green checkered blanket swayed back and forth and Dan assumed Phil was shaking his head. 

There was a muffled, “Nope, this is my new home. I got a drink, laptop, and this 3DS, so I think I can live here forever. Just need to get a toilet installed.” 

“Phil, that really wasn’t nice of you back there,” Dan attempted. 

“How would you know? You only saw Daisy once.” The blanket muttered. 

“Graunty Stella said we should talk. Y’know, like be honest with each other.” 

“Why should I listen to anything Graunty Stella says?” 

Dan merely blew a sigh. After several moments of silence, a rumpled flash of ginger-brown emerged from the blanket. 

“Well?” Phil asked. His expression was one of faint curiosity. 

Dan stood up. 

“Where are you going?” Phil asked, his eyes following Dan as he approached the door. 

“Back downstairs. To make myself useful.” Dan snapped. 

Even through his anger, Dan still winced at Phil’s silent reply. He wanted to say something, but he just exhaled again and left the room. 

\-- 

The Daisy Manor displayed gleaming floors, ornate statues, and a daisy garden, of course. Doctor Daisy tied the reins of her horse in the stables and strode inside, crossing the wide expanse of the front hall. 

“Mother,” she greeted curtly. The gaunt woman vacuuming the parlor sniffed in contempt. Daisy ignored the equally frosty response and continued walking. 

Daisy’s room had the cheeriness of a funeral home and was as bright as Dan’s favorite color. Upon entering her room, Daisy stepped from the glossy glitter of the manor to a peeling coffin. 

Muttering nonsense, she didn’t stop until she’d reached her desk, with a candle on a sconce atop. Adorned with a lighted mirror, it was the only light source in the room. 

She scowled at her reflection, watched her cheeks crease with rage and the light send golden contours across her sweat-beaded forehead. The ceiling loomed far and cold above her and she bared her baby teeth at her reflection. 

She reached up and clenched a hand around her eyepatch, barely held in place with the fishing twine she’d hastily tied. 

Then she pulled back the corner of the fabric, unwrapping it, and a flat green jewel winked at her with flashes of neon green. No one was going to dismiss a huge green jewel, so might as well try to hide it. 

Luckily, nobody could anticipate what it did, either. 

The jewel went from green to neon to white as flashes of light seeped from between her fingers. Her jaws parted now, she panted raggedly as the candle flame grew, and grew, and all at once, the entire sconce drifted into the air. Bubbles of wax trembled on the candle and then the entire row of lights on her mirror hissed and popped. Glittering shards of glass, now all sparkling emerald, flitted away and split into microscopic pieces. 

Daisy drew in another breath and a blue-green aura swamped her wooden dresser as it flew across the room. A pillow skipped along the bed sheets and collapsed on the carpet. Perfection. Utter perfection. 

She’d gone after the wrong kid. Phil was a buffoon of a person, a giggly, bumbling weirdo, but even he was a brilliant secret keeper. A steel trap. 

“Phil Lester, you've just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Daisy rasped. 

She’d have to go to the source. 

Unwrapping her fingers from around the amulet, her dresser fell to the floor in a crash of splinters. The door swung open and Preston Daisy’s tall frame took up the space. 

“Fiona Susan Daisy, clean up your room this instant!” He bellowed. 

The tiny girl strode up to him, grabbed his shirt collar, and yanked him down to eye level. 

“Father, you are going to be useful for once and do me a favor.” Daisy growled. 

Her voice lowered as she muttered, “Get Dan Howell to meet me at the warehouse. And get him _now_.” 

\-- 

Dan crept into the gift shop. A ghostly green glow illuminated the room and he cast a quick glance at the vending machine. 

Then the phone rang. 

Dan raised it to his ear. “Hello?” He asked. 

“Toby Determined, Gravity Falls Gossiper,” replied the voice on the line. 

“Oh. Hey, mate. Sorry for accusing you of murder last week,” he said, forcing out a weak chuckle. “Kinda awkward, y’know.” 

Dan studied the snacks in the vending machine: Yumber jacks, Gelatin Skeletons, Chaptato Tips. Where were the Pom Bears? Where were the _Maltesers_? Why couldn’t he just have the dumb Ribena? 

“Water under the bridge!” Toby said, shaking Dan from his thoughts. 

“Say,” Toby continued, “We want to interview you about whether you've seen anything _unusual_ about this here town since you've arrived.” 

The Maltesers completely forgotten, Dan gasped and nodded, then realized he was on the flipping telephone. _Smooth moves, Dan_ , he thought briefly. 

“Yes!” Dan managed to sputter. “Oh, finally! I thought nobody would ever ask! I have notes and theories!” 

Pages of the Journal, already burned into his brain, flitted through his mind: Eye-bats, zombies, shape-shifters; this would be _legendary_. 

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Dan said, scribbling the address on a notepad. “412 Gopher Road. Right now? Got it. Thanks!” Dan cried, putting the phone down. 

\-- 

Dan looked from his notepad to the building and back again on the little dirt road. This was it, wasn’t it? Dan approached the warehouse, shadowed in the deep violet of the valley skies. 

“Hello?” Dan called as he entered. The mismatched windowpanes cast jagged squares of weak moonlight onto mounds of boxes and piles of dust. A cold fireplace lay in a corner. A discarded office chair was rotting in the center of the dead, industrial room. 

Dan took one step inside and instantly regretted it. With a chilling creak, the door slammed shut behind him. He inhaled a frigid mouthful of the metallic air and pounded on the door, but to no avail. 

This was a mistake. The Journal said not to trust anyone. How could be so stupid?! He slammed his fist on the door again. 

Then the decrepit chair stirred and Doctor Daisy swiveled around. She was petting an article of her merchandise, a little wind-up talking doll of herself. 

“Doctor Daisy?” Dan stammered. “Is this your place?” 

“Oh. Dan, is it?” Daisy asked. “How are you? You look good, you look good.” 

“Thanks, you… er...” Dan started, then cleared his throat. “Look, Daisy. I um, I was actually planning on seeing you, Phil— er, I wanted to see you because of him. Oh! I heard you had dinner at this French place, how was it? And another thing, do I have the right address? 412 Gopher Road? I got a phone call from Toby Determined to meet someone at that place, I’m supposed to be there—” 

Daisy leaned against the swivel chair and blew a sigh. “My goodness, it’s a wonder he’s friends with you at all.” 

“W-what?” Dan asked. 

“If I can comprehend your mess of words just now, you ignored seeing _me_ on _Phil’s_ behalf for a phone call from _Toby Determined_? That sorry old geezer?” 

Mess of words? What happened to Dan the posh fellow? 

“I guess so,” Dan finally muttered. 

Daisy chuckled, as if it were all a merry joke. “Some friend _you_ are,” she muttered. 

Dan kept his gaze on Daisy, but took a half step backward. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked. 

Daisy swept a hand across her perfect black fringe and growled, “Listen carefully, Dan. This town has secrets you couldn't begin to comprehend! That ring a bell?” 

The Journal! If Daisy knew about it… 

“Did Phil say anything about it?” Dan asked instead. 

Daisy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Dan’s stalling. “According to Phil, you’re the source. You know more than he does. Tell me about it.” 

So Phil didn’t say anything. Dan didn’t dare take his hands off his backpack straps, but he tightened them ever so slightly. 

Dan hummed, gazing at the ceiling. “I dunno. It’s kinda hard to remember. I have the memory of gnat, y’know?” 

Daisy smiled sweetly and Dan’s throat constricted. 

“That’s alright, _friend_.” Daisy murmured. 

Her hand reached up and grabbed her eyepatch— except it wasn’t an eyepatch. As she drew it away from her eye, flashes of green glowed from underneath the black fabric, and so did Dan. 

Dan felt a weightlessness beneath his shoes and realized with a gasp that he was floating about a foot above the floor, his entire body glowing as if he’d been dipped in radioactive waste. 

“What—” Dan sputtered, then shouted as Daisy flicked a wrist and he went flying into a pile of boxes, all stuffed with Daisy dolls. 

“Diagnosing illnesses isn't all I can do,” Daisy snarled. 

“But— but you're a fake,” Dan found himself gasping, his limbs entangled among boxes. 

“Oh, tell me, Daniel: is this fake?” Daisy asked, and with a raise of her palm every last box in the warehouse opened, spilling its contents. Watches, sweaters, and mugs floated through the air. 

“Now, this is just fine. If you can’t give me the information, maybe I can… jog your memory. How does that sound?” 

\-- 

“And Phil, using his blanket as a cape, has ventured into the wilderness from his burrow,” Phil narrated. 

Phil stood two inches from his bed, blinking at the empty walls. Nope. Not even close. 

Wasn’t there something he needed to do? Oh, right. The Super Amazing Project. It was his turn to edit Phil sighed, adjusting his cape. He checked his nightstand, under the bed, and rummaged through the drawers. Where was that stupid camera? 

That’s when it hit him. The warehouse. He’d left it there, and had been planning to ask Daisy about his horror movie. Shrugging the duvet off his shoulders, he made his way downstairs towards the garage, off to fetch his bike. 

\-- 

Dan ducked and avoided being nearly decapitated with a Doctor Daisy mug. He skidded and ran back the other way, fleeing from rogue glass shards. 

Dan stopped in front of a bookshelf and gasped at the green glow snaking around it. Leaping out the way before the bookshelf crushed him, he tumbled across the floor and slammed into the wall. Daisy growled in frustration, then looked around for more ammunition. 

“Graunty Stella was right about you; you _are_ a monster!” Dan shouted hoarsely. 

He glanced to his left and punched the cellophane of a package: Doctor Daisy Baseball Bats. For once, gratuitous commercialism paid off. He ripped apart the cellophane, glancing at Daisy, who had her back to him. 

He charged, gripping the bat, but Daisy heard. Whipping around, she needed only to touch her amulet and Dan floated helplessly before her, the bat dropping from his grasp. 

“I won’t tell! You hear me?!” Dan screamed. 

“No problem,” the girl grinned devilishly. “Not a problem at all.” 

A levitating pair of Doctor Daisy Lamb Shears sliced through the package, its gleaming blades drifting right to Dan. 

“Looks like you need a little help getting those words out, _friend_. Try to be a little more articulate this time, will ya? It won’t hurt a bit, as long as you cooperate. But Phil did call you uncooperative, so you better watch your cheeky remarks.” 

\-- 

Phil had been pedaling along comfortably, his thoughts swimming, when he saw a flash of green from within the Daisy warehouse, followed by a cacophony of noises. 

Practically flying off his bike, Phil ran up to the warehouse as soon as he heard the screaming. He didn’t know why or how, but that just had to be Dan. Nobody else could be producing those ridiculously high-pitched shouts and still sound so terrified. Stifling a shout of fear himself, Phil focused on keeping his breathing steady as he approached the door. 

_Just check if he’s alright,_ Phil thought. _Go in, fight off any possible badgers, get Dan and leave. Okay._

He had a hand on the door, about to call for Dan, but then he heard Daisy speak. 

“You sure do talk about Phil a bunch,” she sneered. 

Phil ducked below the window, breathing shallowly. Daisy was waiting for a response. Dan had to be well enough to hold a conversation. 

“What of it?” Dan retorted, sounding very afraid, but still okay. 

“You two crack me up, I swear! You think you’re so well-put together? You can barely get a single sentence out of that big mouth of yours!” 

Phil’s teeth gnashed together. 

“‘Articulate’, ha! I wouldn’t even call you intelligent! Oh, I’m sorry, _smart_. Gotta tone down the vocab there.” 

No response from Dan. 

“Hey, isn’t Phil a bother? Such a dummy, right? He’s just a big klutz and a weirdo. Why do you even bother wasting your time catering to his wacko adventures?” 

Phil blinked hard, seething. 

“Besides, you think Phil even likes you? Why would he want to be friends with a total sad sack like you?” 

This was the real mind game. Daisy really could control people— and in a way Phil never could have anticipated. 

For a moment, Phil couldn’t think. He blinked once, twice, and then wiped at the tears threatening to spill from his closed eyelids. 

“Aw, what’s the matter? You gonna cry?” Daisy jeered. 

Phil froze in shock, but he was still crouched safely below the window, staring at the dead grass. 

“No!” He heard Dan choke out. 

Phil dared to look through the window. 

Dan was glowing as green as the eyepatch— _jewel_ — that Daisy was holding, stiff as a board and trembling before a huge pair of scissors. Then Dan’s eyes locked with Phil’s, and at once Phil was up at the door, ramming the metal with his fists. 

“Daisy, open this door right now! It’s Phil!” 

After a moment, the door swung open and Phil heard the clang of the metal scissors hitting the floor. Behind Daisy, Dan flashed a grateful smile at Phil. Daisy’s features warped. Her features glowed, dimples popped as her baby teeth smiled brightly. But she had a hand up to his eyepatch, struggling to hold the rumpled fabric in place. 

“Phil! Wow! Fancy seeing you here! Y’know, it’s funny, Dan just popped by my warehouse, so I thought I’d have a little chat,” Daisy smiled, as if she was any other kid on the block. 

Two could play at that game. Phil flashed what he hoped was a convincing grin. 

“Cool!” He forced out an amused laugh. “And lookit Dan up there! Hey there, dummy!” 

\-- 

Phil had to know. 

He had to. And as Phil’s eyes met Dan’s, he was certain. Dan gave the tiniest nod towards his friend, who returned it before looking back to Daisy. 

“I dunno why I bothered with him,” Phil scoffed, then grinned at Daisy. “You and I have way more in common! For example…” 

Phil narrowed his eyes. “You’re not the only one who can lie.” 

“What—” Daisy asked. But Phil was quicker. 

Phil lunged forward and yanked the eyepatch right off of Daisy’s face, the fishing twine snapping instantly as Dan belly-flopped onto the floor with a groan. The hastily folded fabric fell away, revealing the jewel Daisy had just been holding, and Phil’s gaze morphed into a spiteful glare as he clutched the gem. 

“I can’t believe I trusted you. And now I find you trying to hurt Dan? What’s wrong with you?!” Phil shouted. 

“My amulet! Give it back!” Daisy cried, and Dan heard a tremor of fear in her voice. 

Phil leaned over Daisy’s tiny form, his eyes blazing. “Serves you right, you weasel! Y’know, make fun of me all you want, but _nobody_ messes with my friends!” 

“Why do you wanna help him?!” Daisy demanded. “He’s just an idiot to you!” 

“He’s my _best friend_ to me!” Phil retorted. “ _And_ for good reason!” 

Phil leaned out of the way of Daisy’s stubby arms and called to Dan. 

“Catch!” Phil cried, and thankfully Dan’s notorious butterfingers didn’t make itself known as the amulet sailed into Dan’s open hands and didn’t fall out. The stone was cool and smooth, and Dan cupped it in his palm. 

“Ha! Not so powerful without this, are you?” He jeered, holding up the jewel. 

“I SAID TO WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” Daisy screeched. There was a blur of black and Dan felt a tremendous force launch into his gut. 

“Dan!” He heard Phil scream as the amulet clattered out of Dan’s grasp. 

Metal and glass shattered around them and wind whistled in his ears. It took Dan longer than a second to realize he and Daisy had hurtled straight out of the window, because Daisy was growling in his face, trying to push him away. Dan kept his fist clenched around Daisy’s shirt collar. 

Dan had a fist raised, ready to strike, and Daisy merely gazed at it, unimpressed. 

Then she smirked, looking at Dan. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” Daisy sneered. 

Dan clenched his teeth, exhaling shallowly. She was right. Daisy had just had him floating helplessly a moment ago, on the verge of tears and doubting everything with just a few piercing questions. Girl or not, he couldn’t bring himself to hit her. She was too good, and he was… what was he? 

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Dan didn’t need to answer that sentence because the ground was looming closer by the second. A few moments and they’d be like bugs on a windshield. Dan squeezed his eyes shut. 

Like he was being pulled by a taut rope, Dan abruptly felt his whole body jerk upward. He opened his eyes and found himself two inches from the ground. He looked at his hand. Glowing green. 

Feeling himself being turned around, he swiveled his gaze upward and saw Phil descend from the sky, a green aura around his body. It glowed brightest in his clenched fist, raised triumphantly, as he clutched the amulet. And he looked just about ready for murder. Framed by the full moon, Phil’s silhouette cast veils of green light that swirled around him. 

Phil wore a look of pure venom as he lowered himself to the grass, storming right up to Daisy. 

“Listen up, punk,” Phil spat. “I’ll say it again, so you get this through your big head: Dan is my _best friend_. None of your ‘wittle’ mind games are gonna change that. And for the record, if you’re gonna manipulate people, _don’t_ be a one-trick pony.” 

With a look of disgust, Phil hurled the amulet and it shattered on a rock in a puff of ghostly green air. He deposited Dan on his feet but made sure to drop Daisy in a messy heap. 

“My powers!” Daisy cried. 

She stood, glowering, and pointed her fingers at them both. “Oh, this isn't over. This isn't the last you'll see of me!” 

With that, Doctor Daisy disappeared into the inky shadows of the forest. 

Dan and Phil exchanged a glance, and Phil’s gaze withered. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Dan said suddenly. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not just that,” Phil mumbled. “I— I didn’t want you to be right. But it’s true, isn’t it?” 

“I know,” Dan replied with a sympathetic smile. “But Phil… thank you. For what you said. It— it means a lot.” 

\-- 

With a creak, Stella forced the metal gate open, adorned with daisy buds. Stomping right up to the front door, she scowled at the sign that read “Pardon this garden” in curly script. 

“I will pardon nothing!” Stella declared, slapping the sign away. She rapped on the door. 

“Stella Lester! What a surprise!” Mr. Daisy exclaimed. 

“Preston, where’s Daniel and Philip?” Stella deadpanned. 

“Warehouse,” he replied with a pained smile, and shut the door. 

Before she left, Stella made sure to tear up the daisy buds. She snickered to herself. 

Dan and Phil were right in the same place when Stella approached. She widened her eyes at the bruise on Dan’s jaw and the scrapes on Phil’s knees. What was this, injury roulette? She was going through first-aid kits faster than _food_ with these two. 

“Hey, Graunty Stella,” Dan chuckled weakly. “What’re you doing here?” 

Stella tapped her chin. “Well, Cat mentioned Philip went to the Daisy manor. I’m just here to pick up my kids. You seen ‘em around?” 

Phil dashed up to his great aunt and enveloped her in a hug. 

“Graunty Stella, you were completely right,” He mumbled. 

Stella patted him on the head. “I’ll take that as an apology enough, Philip. That’s alright. Now you see, eh?” 

She let go of Phil and looked over their injuries. “What the heck happened to you two?” 

“Daisy,” Phil muttered with another glance at Dan. 

“Daisy,” Dan echoed, sighing. 

“Daisy,” Stella grumbled. “Alright, let’s get you patched up… again.” 

\-- 

The same dark walls and barren room sighed gloomily at Doctor Daisy when she stormed back into her room. She marched up to her mirror, scowling at the purple blooms that marred her face. It was his fault. Their fault. 

Phil’s voice echoed in her mind: “Dan is my best friend. None of your mind games is gonna change that.” 

And Dan: “Not so powerful without this, are you?” 

No matter. If she wasn’t going to figure out through Phil, she’d just have to keep trying. 

Daisy flipped to the page again: _Magic amulet_ , amid pages that were frayed, browning and brittle. 

_Oh, you’ll see, boys._ Daisy thought. _You’ll see._

Daisy closed the leather bound book. A book with a maroon hardcover and tattered edges. A book with a sheet of gold foil the shape of a hand, which curiously enough had six fingers. 

A book entitled Journal 2. 

\-- 

Dan shuffled downstairs the next morning to find two glasses of wine-red juice and a note. 

_Hey Dan!_  
_I’m really sorry about everything. I actually saved a little Ribena, and it’s all for you! I promise it’s not poisoned or out of date, you won’t grow wings or fangs or any “ng” things. Enjoy!_  
_—Phil ^_^_

Dan smiled at the messy emoticon next to Phil's name, then picked up the glasses, one in each hand. 

“Hey Graunty Stella,” Dan called. “You want some Ribena with your coffee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to know where I got the inspiration for Doctor Daisy? Decipher this and search it up on YouTube:  
> "PXVH - VXSUHPDFB EB GDQ DQG SKLO IRU EEF UDGLR 1"


End file.
